


For they know not what they do

by blackhighheels



Series: For they know now what they do [1]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-01-29 11:50:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 41,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21409729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackhighheels/pseuds/blackhighheels
Summary: When they keep running into each other and get back into each other's lives,  they know exactly what they are doing, right?"I miss you," he allows himself to whisper against the short black hair, knowing she doesn't hear him. It's the truth, but one that can't be discussed, because too much has happened.These days she doesn't even trust him enough to be friends. This, here, now, is the exception of the rule, because she is too tired to fight it. He grabs the opportunity with both hands and holds her for as long as he is allowed to, because he doesn't know if he'll ever get another chance.
Relationships: Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo
Series: For they know now what they do [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1596028
Comments: 162
Kudos: 130





	1. Chapter 1

1.

The first time they run into each other by chance, they literally _run into_ each other. Jose is at the gym and is just leaving his dance rehearsal in a hurry when he crashes into a solid figure. Maybe he should have looked where he was going when walking through the door, but his phone keeps vibrating and his water bottle is nearly falling out of his gym bag.

"Ooof," escapes him before he realises that the chest he crashed into feels and smells familiar, even after months apart without any contact. He knows who it is before he looks up, but does anyway. "Well, well, well, isn't that Miss Brooke Lynn. What is your fine Canadian ass doing in this humble gym in LA?" he smirks and lets his gym bag slide down to the floor. Brooke's whole face lights up when she sees him and he knows what's coming. A second later they have their arms flung around each other in a tight hug.

"It's so good to see you. How are you?" she asks and holds him by his upper arms to get a good look at him. He looks at her too, and god, she still looks fine as hell. The little jump his heart does reminds him why he hasn't contacted her in so long.

"I'm good, how are you, mami?" he replies, keeping up the small talk.

"Good… busy," she says and finally lets go of him. "I'm here to rehearse for a cameo on drag race this season."

"Teaching them drag hos how to get on their tippy toes?" he teases and they have to move to the side, so that his dancers can leave the studio.

"See you tomorrow," they tell him with a wave and he waves back.

"You done rehearsing?"

"Yeah, new solo program. I've been here for what feels like the last two years," he sighs, even though it's only been a bit over a week. Every muscle in his body is aching and he has lost count of the blisters on his feet from dancing all day, sometimes in heels.

"Send me the tour dates, so I can check it out and come see you," Brooke requests, even though they both know that she hasn't been to a show of his since they were on tour together. He doesn't reply, just smiles as politely as possible. "Hey, uhm, I still have like half an hour, you know. Maybe we could grab a cup of coffee?" She sounds weirdly nervous, but the look in her beautiful blue eyes is one he knows only too well.

Coffee will end with a promise of more later tonight, if he says yes. And he knows he doesn't have the willpower to say no, once he gets too caught up in the soft touches, shared jokes and longing looks. Even now, he wants to say yes and kiss and ravish her right here, outside the rehearsal studio of a gym that stinks of rubber and sweat. They've been around that tree too many times to count and he knows that the euphoria will be replaced by heartache and sadness once he'll be alone, once again, while Brooke is chasing her dreams and the ass of every fine piece of trade that comes along.

"Sorry, I can't. I'mma leave tomorrow for Brazil and I still have to pack and shit, you know," he shrugs and congratulates himself on his self-control.

"Aw, that's too bad. When will you be back?"

"Couple of months, I guess, " he shrugs. "I'm in Brazil and Europe with my own show, then quick stop in New York for fashion week. Then a couple of shows in Vegas… I think I'll be back after that, but child, I can't even tell these days. My cellphone calendar tells me now where I am at and where to go."

"I know the feeling," Brooke looks sympathetic. "Give me a call when you have the time and we can meet and catch up." Jose wonders what that is all about all of a sudden, but bites his tongue.

"Sure, will do, boo," he says instead, already knowing there is no way in hell he will call or even text, and picks his gym bag back up. "I really have to hustle now."

"Take care, papi," Brooke says and sounds strangely emotional as she gives him another hug, that lasts a bit too long.

"You, too, bitch.Show them drag babies how to ballet," he winks and leaves, before the temptation to stay and chat and flirt and kiss becomes too much. He hurries out of the gym so fast that he is out of breath when he reaches his car. Yet, he made it. He saw Brooke and didn't fall back into bed with her. Jose1: Brooke 0

***

2.

The next time they run into each other it's not quite as literal. Brock's flight got delayed in London because of a storm and he is sitting in the senator lounge when the door opens and he hears a voice he would recognise everywhere. She hasn't seen him yet and keeps talking on the phone as she walks into the room and makes a beeline for the refreshments.

Dressed in a large black hoodie, black jeans and black trainers, the outfit is one that Brock recognises as a way to blend into the masses. A way to not stand out for once and seek refuge in anonymity. It's a strategy he himself tries too often these days and that does not always succeed.

When Vanjie ends the phone call, grabs a bottle of water and looks around for a place to sit, he raises his hand, waves and can't stop the goofy smile on his face. Like the last time in the gym, Vanjie seems a bit hesitant and the breathtaking smile takes a bit longer to spread over her face. Then however she hurries over to him. He gets up and the two hold each other. When Brock inhales the spicy scent of Vanjie's aftershave, it feels like he is home for a second.

"Hey stranger," he greets her and gives her another squeeze before he lets her go and sits back down.

"I don't see you for months and then I run into you at a huge ass airport on the other side of the world," she laughs and opens the water.

"At least this time you didn't nearly bowl me over," he jokes.

"Bitch, you were blocking the doorway," she remembers.

"Was not. You weren't looking where you were going," he protests playfully and she only rolls her eyes as she takes a sip of her water.

"Where you flying to?" she asks then.

"Home," he replies. "Well, once my flight will finally leave."

"Mine got delayed by two hours so far. Fucking storm." She sounds more grumpy than is normal for her.

"You look tired. You ok?" Brock asks, noticing the dark circles under her eyes, that make her eyes seem smaller.

"Been dancing at least one show every night for the last….," she thinks about it for a moment, then shakes her head, "I don't know how many weeks. My knee is acting up again and the jet lag… don't know where is up and where is down," she sighs deeply, then straightens her shoulders and sits up. "Sorry, mama, didn't mean to complain. I know I'm living the dream and all. It just…" Another shrug.

"I know. I get it, believe me," he says, reaches over the table and gives her hand a squeeze. It's strangely cold and he knows she only gets cold when she is over-tired or sick. "Have you eaten something?" Even though she loves talking about food, actually eating it when she is stressed is another thing altogether. Another tidbit he remembers quite clearly.

"I'm not hungry." A wide yawn follows the words.

"I'm gonna get you some rice with vegetables. The potato gratin isn't half bad either," he decides and gets up.

"I'm really not…" she tries to protest, but he stops her with a hand on her shoulder.

"Once you're done eating you can get some Zzzs on the lounge chairs over there and I'll watch your backpack and keep an eye out for announcements for your flight," he promises, knowing he can't sleep anyway. The anxiety of possibly getting robbed, missing his flight or simply drooling in his sleep, would never let him relax enough in a semi-public airport lounge.

"Thank you," is all she says when he comes back with the food, that she then eats in silence. He even gets her to eat the chocolate cake as dessert, before they both move over to the lounge chairs.

They are so close together that once she is asleep, she curls into him and he gets to hold her, like he used to. He can't concentrate on the movie on his laptop anymore and instead watches her, buries his nose in her hair and trails his fingers over her soft skin. He feels the soft puffs of breath against his neck and it hits him once again how much he misses _them._ No one else has ever managed to make him feel what he feels when they are together. He wonders, had he known back then when they broke up that years later he would still be hung up on her, would still miss her and still love her, would he have done it anyway? Fought for his freedom no matter the costs and downplay his feelings even to himself? He doesn't know. Maybe. But would they have made it, even if he had given in back then? He is surer of the answer: Probably not. The odds were stacked against them from the beginning and his inability to trust and commit fully only one of the many things. Contracts, cameras, fans with crazy unrealistic ideas of their relationship, managers with opinions, schedules that never lined up, too many temptations, too much alcohol, crazy jealousy, impossible expectations…No, they never really stood a chance.

"I miss you," he allows himself to whisper against the short black hair, knowing she doesn't hear him. It's the truth, but one that can't be discussed, because too much has happened. Even though she is lying in his arms snoozing away, he knows that the cycle of fights, breakup, being friends, hooking up, mistrust, fights… has left too many scars for her to ever give him another chance. One whiff of freedom on his part and they would be right back to square one.

These days she doesn't even trust him enough to be friends. This, here, now, is the exception of the rule, because she is too tired to fight it. He grabs the opportunity with both hands and holds her for as long as he is allowed to, because he doesn't know if he'll ever get another chance.

***

All planes are still on the ground when Jose wakes up two hours later. He feels rejuvenated by the nap, but is startled when he realises that he slept with his head against Brooke's chest. How did that happen? She doesn't seem to mind and only smiles as he sits up and stretches.

"Tell me there's some news on this motherfucking storm," he asks and stifles a last yawn.

"First planes are supposed to take off in an hour. They will start boarding some flights in a couple of minutes. Mine is announced in one hour and forty, yours two hours. No guarantees," she updates him.

"Wanna get out of here? There's a Starbucks downstairs and I promised my mom I would bring her a London cup. Forgot the last couple of times and she'll whoop my ass if I forget again," he admits.

"Sounds good," she agrees and they both grab their bags and phones and leave the lounge.

"Aw, look at this. It looks like Riley," he exclaims when he sees an apron with dogs all over it at the Cath Kidston store and stops in front of it.

"Since when do you know how to cook?" she snorts.

"Bitch, that don't matter," he slaps her chest with the back of his hand. "And look over there. A passport cover with kitty cats on it," he points out and suddenly she's just as excited about the frilly, flowery patterns of the store. They end up buying aprons, passport covers, mugs, pens, a make-up bag and even a purse with dogs and cats respectively.

"I love my new mug," she sighs, still excited that the cats on the mug look like her own.

"Girl, I want a picture of bad-ass bitch Brooke Lynn Hytes all dressed up in them frilly pjs, apron with the little handbag and the mug, all with kitty cats on them. Put it on your insta and you'll break the internet," he chuckles and pictures the scene. "You'll look like that Umbridge bitch, but hotter."

"Says the guy who just bought a pink cellphone cover with puppies on it."

"It's Riley. He my lock screen and background picture, too," he justifies his own whimsical shopping spree. "I miss my baby," he adds with a pout.

"Aw, boo, I miss my babies too," she pulls him into a sidewards hug as they walk towards the escalator. She keeps her hand on his back as they ride down and he enjoys the warmth off the touch that he can feel even through his hoody.

They buy London mugs and each a cup of coffee at Starbucks, stop by the Prada store and get some make-up at Boots, just because they are bored and it's fun to test out the lipsticks, foundations and lotions. When she has to leave, she gives him another hug and adds a peck to his lips, that he feels tingling long after she has hurried off to get to her gate and make it in time for boarding. He is so dazed by the tiny kiss and the last hours in her presence, that he walks through the airport and nearly misses his flight once it is finally leaving. They have to call him to the gate twice. Jose1: Brock 1, he thinks.

TBC

I hope there aren' too many typos in there. I'll go over it later when I have the time. Now it's back to work for me. I just wanted to post this, so I might have the motivation to keep writing. It's always more pressure once the first chapter is out.


	2. Chapter 2

3.

It takes him a while, but Brock sends Vanjie a dm with the picture of him in the outfit he bought in London. Then he checks out all instagram posts Vanjie has made, that he hasn't seen yet.

He only realises that Vanjie didn't follow him anymore, when he gets the notification that he is following him back again, weeks after his message. It's also when Brock finally gets a reply to his dm. It's a picture and Vanjie is standing in front of a stove, fake stirring something in a pot that is very clearly empty, but he is wearing the apron with the dogs on it and a large, proud, teasing smile. It makes him laugh out loud and heals the wound of the unfollow a bit. Vanjie's just too cute.

'Don't burn anything in that empty pot' he texts back.

'Bitch, I always burn the motherfucking house down. Don't need any pot for that,' he replies with his usual sass. Brock takes a closer look at the picture, takes in every detail and realises that he doesn't recognize the kitchen. Also, he doesn't think Vanjie even owns any pots.

'Where are you? Doesn't seem like this is your house that'll go up in flames, if you get any closer to the stove.' He switches the conversation to whatsapp, and gets informed that Vanjie has changed his phone number. Thankfully the new number is provided by the app and he can save it in his phone. Still, it stings that he hasn't given it to him, hasn't even been informed by him that he changed his number.

'AirBnB in New York. This bitch is going to be on Broadway'. Brock is surprised, but indescribably happy for him. He deserves all the chances and success in the world.

'Congratulations, papi! I'm gonna be in New York in two months. You still gonna be there then?' he texts back.

He sees that he writes something, seems to delete it. Goes offline for a minute. Writes, deletes, writes… finally sends: 'Thank you. Want me to get you a ticket or two to the show?'

'Absolutely! Send me the link to the show dates and I'll tell you when'. He doubts for a second that he will send him the dates and wonders how he would react, if he just got a ticket himself and simply showed up. The link shows up in his screen a moment later and after checking his diary and clearing an evening, he sends the requested date.

'How many tickets?' comes the question.

'Just one'. He doesn't want anyone there when he goes to see him, because he hopes that he will get to talk to him before or after. He'll take anything, just as long as he gets to be alone with Vanjie and re-charge on the feeling of whole-ness that he gets in his presence and that is slowly running out after months of being without him.

***

Jose hasn't been this nervous about his performance since the opening night. Not even when his whole family came to watch him. He knows they love him no matter what.

He can't say the same for Brooke. He really, really wants to impress him with his performance on stage. He shows up at the theater half an hour earlier than usual, and goes to the seats in the audience. He sits down in the seat Brooke will sit in later tonight, so he knows what kind of view he will have. Then he walks to his dressing room and starts getting ready as the other performers get in. He has just finished his mug when there is a knock on the door and one of the stage hands sticks his head in.

"Jose, this was just dropped off for you," he says and hands him a large bouquet of colourful Zinnias.

"Thanks, Frankie-boy," he smiles and takes the flowers from him. 'Break a leg out there - but please not literally. See you later, papi. Brock' the card reads in Brooke's handwriting. Jose realises that it means that he is already here, waiting somewhere outside, or at least made an early detour to drop the flowers off. He buries his nose in them and hugs them to his chest so hard he nearly squishes them all.

He can't stop smiling while he gets dressed, mic-ed and his wig on. When he enters the stage by falling from the ceiling with the usual smoke, music and every other dramatic effect there is, he barely manages to stay in character and not look out to the audience when he isn't supposed to. He dances and twirls over the stage, death-drops and concentrates even more than usual on being bratty and charming and so very Vanjie, because he hopes it will make Brooke laugh. Once his long first dance number is over and the audience whistles, cheers and stomp their feet, like they usually do at the evening shows, he glimpses at Brooke's seat. The large smile he sees on his face makes him all giddy inside, as he slowly makes his way back behind the curtain to wait for his next cue.

When the show is over and they come out for their individual applause, Brooke jumps to his feet when he sees him, starts the standing ovation that is just for him. He basks in the glory of this moment and the fact that he sees him wipe some tears away, between clapping so hard his hands must be all red and hurt. He gives him a shy wave from the stage that he returns, then waves to the hardcore fans in the first row, many of which he knows by name already.

Once he is back in his dressing room, cell phone in hand, he hesitates, because he doesn't really know what to write. They never talked about what they would do after the show. Does Brooke want to come to his dressing room and chat while he de-drags, then leave, like he does with friends who randomly stop by? Will he wait by the stage door with all the other fans and they will chat there, maybe go somewhere together? Or should they just agree to meet at some restaurant and grab something to eat, like he does when his family is in town? He twirls his phone between his fingers as he thinks about the different options, but he can't decide what to text.

"Jo, a 'Brock' wants to see you. He says you two know each other. Can I let him up?" Frankie is back by the door and Jose must have missed the knock.

"Yes, sure. He a friend of mine, Franks," he agrees and is glad that the decision is out of his hands. He quickly takes off his wig and the mic that was hidden underneath. He takes off his eye-lashes when the awaited knock on the door comes.

"You were soooo amazing!" Brooke is all excited. So excited, Jose is picked right off his chair and swung around, before he gets a full body hug, that he gladly returns.

"So, you liked it?" he asks with a smirk and maybe a bit relieved.

"I loved it!" he insists. "I think I actually screamed when you dropped from the ceiling in your opening number and then again later when you did that death-drop from that platform." His energy is giddy, full of excitement and his voice louder than usual. It makes Jose blush like a schoolgirl, seeing him like this over something that _he_ did. The casual jeans Brooke wears look amazing, the black sweater and stubble make the blue of his eyes stand out even more and the black hat is most likely for anonymity, but looks cute anyway.

"Nearly killed myself in rehearsal for that last stunt," he says, taps the shield of the hat cheekily and then turns around to take his costume off. He can't keep looking at Brooke when he looks all delicious and proud of him. It's too much, too unhealthy, too tempting.

"How is your knee doing?" Brooke asks and sits down on the small sofa on the other side of the tiny room. The nervous flutters are back, when Jose realises that he remembers him telling him about his knee troubles when they ran into each other in London. He remembers. He does remember. And he cares.

"Have to get some injections every once in a while to treat the inflammation," he says, once he finds his voice and knows he won't start crying because of the show of interest in his wellbeing on Brooke's part.

"You won't need surgery?"

"Yeah, some time in the future. Not now. I'm good with the injections and bandages and physical therapy and shit," he says, downplaying his annoyance about the knee situation. "How are you, Miss thing? Still being a judgemental bitch on TV?" He asks and slips a shirt over his head, glad that he doesn't have to tuck und untuck for his role and can keep his underwear on, as he changes into his pants.

"Yeah, seems like they like having me around," he shrugs.

"You doing a good job, mama," Jose compliments and doesn't care that Brooke knows now that he watches the show. Brooke is here after all, in his dressing room and did just cry because he did well.

"Thank you," he says and seems touched by the praise. "You wanna get out of here and get some dinner? You have time?"

"There's a Thai place around the corner. They have the spicy ass shit you like, but also great rice for me. You in?" Jose suggests and Brooke nods eagerly.

"Lead the way, papi." And he does.

***

"And then, and you better believe me, child, then he hits that fucking whistle tone and I swear, bitch, my ears were bleeding so bad I had to staple them to my head to keep them from escaping all fast and furious," Vanjie tells him about his Broadway adventures with his usual theatrics and Brock is laughing so hard he is literally crying.

"Ow, fuck," he curses and then coughs when some of the spicy rice he eats goes the wrong way.

"Lord have mercy, you have rice coming out of your fucking nose," Vanjie cracks up as well and makes him laugh even harder, while he tries to wipe the rice off his nose. "Still there," he keeps laughing.

"It fucking burns. It's so spicy," he complains, but can't stop laughing and can't stop crying. They have both left the point of sanity behind about fifteen minutes ago, when Brock laughed so hard he accidentally spit wine all over the table. With anyone else he would be embarrassed, but with Vanjie in full Vanjie mode, he is used to laughing so hard he lacks any control over his manners or body.

"Let me help you, baby B," Vanjie offers and sticks his finger up Brock's nose, which sets him off again.

"Get you finger out of my nose," he laughs and tries to swat the hand away.

"Girl, I had my finger in other of your bodily openings and you didn't bitch that much," Vanjie teases while wiggling his eyebrows and finally manages to get the rice out of his nose, before he wipes his hand on a napkin.

"You're disgusting," Brock gasps and wipes the tears of laughter off his cheeks.

"That's not what you said then."

"Oh, shut the fuck up," he rolls his eyes, but enjoys the teasing. It's close to the flirtation that used to be between them, which stopped when the hurt overweighed the friendship.

"You still have parsley on your nose," Vanjie points out with a chuckle and then watches with raised eyebrows and a smirk as Brock tries to wipe it off, without really knowing where it is.

"Can you please just get it?" He laughs, because the situation is ridiculous. "Fuck, what a mess. I don't think they'll ever let us back in here," he says as he takes in the chaos on their table after Vanjie has wiped his face clean with the last clean napkin. Their table looks like a battlefield.

"You always were a messy ho, Brooke Lynn. Seems like you haven't changed much," Vanjie giggles. Brock enjoys seeing him this carefree with their old dynamic back. He doesn't even remember when he laughed as much the last time, but he is sure Vanjie was somehow involved then, too.

"Want to get out of here before they make us pay for the damages?" he asks, not wanting the night to end yet. "We could go and get donuts as dessert?"

"Hope you don't mean the powdered kind," Vanjie snarks and takes his credit card out as he waves the waiter over.

"No, leave it. It's my treat," Brock insists and places his hand on top of the one that holds the credit card. Vanjie's brown eyes zoom in on their touching fingers and linger there for a moment, before they meet his blue ones.

"Ok," he says softly and much quieter than any word that has left his mouth all evening. Brock can't look away and break the eye contact that seems too intense all of a sudden. He doesn't really know what the look means that Vanjie gives him, but it's sparkly and soft and makes him feel all hot and bothered. When they were still a couple he knew what that look meant, and would lean over and just kiss him, as deeply as possible. He can't do that now though, can he?

The waiter arrives and Vanjie breaks the eye contact as he tucks his credit card back into his cellphone cover. Brock has to snap out of his daze to pay the bill.

When they reach Vanjie's AirBnB apartment two hours later they both have powdered sugar on their faces and mouths, because Vanjie thought it was funny to get real powdered sugar donuts and not the illegal kind. They each ate two while they walked through New York, talking and laughing about everything and nothing. They were so deep in conversation that Brock never even thought about following Vanjie up to the apartment on the 20th floor. Only when they place the box with the rest of the donuts on the kitchen counter and Brock mentions how fancy the place is, they both seem to realise where they are. Suddenly there is silence. Vanjie licks his lips. And Brock can't help himself anymore. He pounces.

***

Jose doesn't know how they end up at his rented apartment, not that it matters at this point. Brooke has him pressed against the kitchen counter, one hand in his hair angling his head, the other already under his shirt as he kisses him deeply and without mercy. He tastes like the sugary donuts, strawberry lemonade and something familiar Jose can't get enough off, as he kisses him back.

He has missed him so much and he craves him in a way that makes him ache, whether he is around or not. It's just so much harder to ignore the pain when Brooke is close and could be the balm that soothes it.

He can do this, he convinces himself as Brock hat flies through the room when he tucks his shirt over his head and sends it flying as well. He can do it, he can treat this like all the other one night stands he has had. And there have been many. He doesn't remember the places, their names or even what they looked like. All he knows is that he needed to get fucked and hot guys are all over him at clubs or send him pics on instagram. He doesn't even need grindr or any of that shit. He is Vanessa Vanjie Mateo and they all wanna fuck him. And Brooke is no exception.

He unbuckles his jeans as he kisses down his milky white chest and circles his nipples with his tongue.

Brooke tilts his head back up, slides his tongue back in his mouth and kisses him until he is dizzy. Then he gets him out of his shirt and pants so fast Jose can only gasp when the cold air hits his naked skin.

"Bedroom?" Brooke asks and hoists him up, so his legs are around his hips. Jose motions with his chin in the right direction and wraps his arms around Brooke's neck as he carries him. He nibbles on the soft skin of his neck and ear and enjoys the scratch of Brooke's stubble against his own smooth cheek as he marks his skin with his teeth and lips. Their naked chests are touching and Jose can feel Brooke's hard cock rubbing against his ass as he walks. This is what he needs. He can do this.

The lights filter in from the city outside, New York never really dark, as they tumble onto the bed and loose the rest of their clothes without stopping to touch each other. Jose feels like a teenager, already close to coming though they haven't really started yet.

"God, fuck me already," he groans as Brock has nibbled, kissed and sucked his way down to his crotch, but doesn't give him what he wants yet.

"You sure?" he asks and stops completely. Jose meets his eyes and finds the look in them a lot more serious and tender than he expected. This isn't Brooke's one-night stand kind of look. This is one he used when they were still a couple.

This is not what Jose wants though, it can't be. Because they are not a couple anymore and Brooke doesn't love him. It is a one night only kind of fuck and he can do this. Brooke sure can do this, has proven it more than enough in the past.

"Yes, fuck," he can't help but curse annoyed. Why did he have to give him that look? Couldn't he just suck him off or fuck him already? Isn't that what he came here for? "Condoms and lube are in the night-table," he hisses and Brooke gives him another odd look. "Hurry," he adds for good measure. Finally, finally, Brooke obliges and gets the condom, then preps him with the lube.

"You good?" he asks, but Jose has enough of the talking and just wraps his legs around Brooke's hips in an answer.

He makes sure it's fast and hard and loud and everything else a one night stand without feelings is supposed to be. Whenever Brooke slows down, touches him too softly or kisses him too gently, he brings the fire back in. Neither of them lasts long and Jose slowly pushes Brooke off of him once they are done, takes the condom to the bathroom and gets rid of it. He pads into the kitchen and gets them each a glass of water, hands one to Brooke once he is back in the bedroom. He places his own on the nightstand, then gets briefs and jogging pants out that he puts on, before he sits crossed legged down on top of the messy covers on the bed. He can do this. Just like with all the others…

"You gonna stay here tonight or go back to your hotel?" he asks and picks his glass up, so he doesn't have to look Brooke in the eye.

"Uh," Brooke seems so surprised he has trouble finding words. Or maybe he is just really fucked out? Jose doesn't know. It's not like he knows him all that well anymore after all this time part.Or maybe he never really knew him in the first place. That would also explain why he thought this man was able to be in a monogamous relationship.

"I can only offer you some sweats, but I don't know if they'll fit your big ballerina ass," he grins and sips his water again.

"You want me to stay?" Brooke finally finds his voice and sounds as nonchalant as Jose knew he would. It's not like he minds either way.

"If you want to. There's a guest room down the hall," he shrugs and looks at him this time. That's how he sees Brooke wince at his words. "Bitch, I need my beauty sleep and I don't think your loud ass snoring will help," he tries to bring the humour back in. Brooke smiles, but it's shaky.

"No, you're right. You need your sleep. I should leave," he says and gets up. Jose waits for a bit until he can be sure Brooke isn't naked anymore and then follows him. He can do this. Easy peasy, right?

"You got everything?" he asks once Brooke is dressed again, standing awkwardly in his living-room.

"I think so."

"You want to take the donuts?"

"No, thanks. You keep them and eat them."

"You have plans already tomorrow?" Jose asks, because he knows Brooke will leave town the day after tomorrow for Chicago.

"Yeah, uhm, some fittings, you know."

"Give me a call when you wanna do something tomorrow night. Go clubbing or something. It could be fun," Jose tries to smile and hopes he manages.

"Sure, if you're free," Brooke looks really surprised.

"I am after the show. No matinee the day after. Just let me know and don't be a stranger, ok Miss Brooke Lynn?" Jose goes back to familiar territory with his teasing. He is a pro at hook ups now. He can do this.

"Same goes for you," Brooke replies, leans down and gently kisses his cheek, lingers for a bit. "Good night, boo."

"Night," he watches him leaves, gives him a small wave when he steps into the elevator and closes the door. It has barely clicked shut when the first tears drip onto the hallway floor and Jose is reduced to desperate sobs that wreck his body. But he can do this, right?

Jose1: Brock 2

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

4.

"God, it's so fucking hot. You sure you wanna celebrate outside?" Brock groans and wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.

"It's a garden party, of course it's gonna be outside," Nina laughs and puts up another lantern. "Besides, once it gets dark it'll cool down."

"Make it a pool party next time." He ties the last balloon and hangs it carefully next to the others. The whole backyard is decorated with pink flamingos, balloons and lanterns and could be the set of a Disney princess wedding, which, of course, is perfect for Nina's birthday party.

"Not everyone is a loaded as you and can go house hunting for a mansion with a pool," Nina protests.

"I am not looking for a mansion," Brock points out. "Just like… if I finally move to LA, which I am still not too enthusiastic about, then the damn house better have a pool."

"Look at us," Andrew laughs and hugs Brock from the side. "A few years back we worked seven nights a week and were barely able to pay our rent. And now here we are having garden parties and buying houses with pools."

"We're good," Brock shrugs, but can't help the proud smile. "And we worked our asses off. Still do," he adds because it's true. "Anything else I can do?"

"No, go and take a shower before the guests get here. You stink," Nina teases and Brock shakes his head so his curls and the sweat are flying.

"Who is coming anyway? Someone I know?" All Brock knows is that Nina's birthday bash is going to be huge, but he has no idea who is invited beside him.

"Uh, Monet will be here and you know Patricia. Scarlet, Ariel and Mariah to name the other Ru girls," Nina lets him know and Brock can't help but feel a bit disappointed, that the one person he wants to see won't be there. "Oh and Vanjie said he'd try to come, but he wasn't sure he'd be back in the States in time. He went on a cruise or vacation or something and I haven't heard back from him again," Nina adds and Brock feels his pulse speed up. It's only a slight chance that Vanjie will come, but there is a chance now. He nods in acknowledgement and tries to hide his smile - without success.

"Have you talked to him since that disastrous one night stand in New York?" Nina wants to know.

"We text sometimes," he admits. "And it wasn't a one night stand. More like a slip up."

"But you haven't seen him or talked to him about what happened?"

"No, I haven't. We haven't… no," he sits down on a chair in the shade, the reality check Nina is giving him is draining all of his energy. "And what is there to talk about? We've done it before. We met, we talked, we fucked. End of story."

"Don't leave out half of the story: You met, you talked, you fucked, he kicked you out, you called me and Steve whining about it, all upset and sad. That part was certainly new."

"You had to bring that up," he rolls his eyes, tries to put an end to this aspect of the topic.

"Of course! I don't want the Branjie drama to ruin my birthday party. It's been going on forever and from what I see and hear, it only gets worse not better." Andrew sits down beside him, scotch tape still in hand. "But most importantly I hate to see you hurt and upset."

"I'm ok, I promise. Jose and I… we're good. You know, we didn't fight or anything. We're still friends, we still text and follow each other on social media. I'll be happy, if I get to see him here tonight, you know. It's been a while. New York was… I guess, I just didn't expect him to be this way now; so casual and not at all emotional. He was always the one who had a problem letting go after we spent the night together and this time he basically kicked me out of his bed." He tries to explain what is going through his head. He should be over the New York situation by now, but he can't help it: It still stings.

"You want more and he didn't fall back into your waiting arms." Nina sums up the situation and for a second Brock thinks he is joking. He looks serious though.

"I don't think I can do relationships. I need my freedom and Jose is the last person to accept that, no matter how much I wish he would."

"But you still love him. And now that you're finally moving to LA…"

"Of course, I do love him. Like, a lot, actually" he admits what he has known to be true for a long while by now. Even his decision to finally make the move to LA might have something to do with the fact that he might see Vanjie more often. He doubts it's enough though."Doesn't mean that he wants me back or that we could make it work."

"At least you admit it now." Nina bumps his shoulder against his and Brock gets up with a groan to take the shower he really needs.

***

Jose has been in Columbus a couple of times before, but he has never been to Nina's house. The place is crowded when they get there. People are everywhere, inside and outside in the decorated garden, drinking, chatting and even dancing. He has barely set a foot inside the door when Monet hugs him and they kiki as he gets himself something to drink.

He sees Nina next and gives him his present as they spend some time catching up. More Ru girls gather around them and they exchange stories from the road.

It's when he gets himself his second cocktail of the night when he makes eye contact with Brooke over the bar. He is happy to see him and knows the dopey smile spreads over his face as he makes his way towards him. He can't help it. Brooke looks as good as always, but a bit more tan that he has ever seen him.

"You made it," Brooke says, when he reaches him and they hug, careful that their drinks won't spill over as their cheeks brush against each other when they pull back. Brock smells good. Like his usual aftershave, shampoo and some kind of expensive lotion.

"Sure mama, can't let a party at Nina's go by without me," he smirks and lets his eyes wander not so subtly over Brooke's outfit. He is wearing beige shorts and a blue shirt with a Hawaiian print, that looks very much like he stole it from Nina's closet. It looks good on him and brings out his eyes. "Wearing chancletas to show off your nasty twinkle toes?" he teases him when he sees the shoes.

Brooke laughs out loud when he hears the familiar insult. "It's a summer garden party, what do you expect?" he simply says.

"Hey, I'm wearing my new Nike's. They go with everything," Jose points out and lifts his leg up to show him. "I look fresh right?" he asks.

"So very fresh," Brooke laughs and nods.

"You got a spray tan going or you finally got some sun without crumbling to dust like a vampire?" he wonders then, because he is curious about it.

"I just got back from my annual South Africa trip. Managed to stay for three weeks this time and didn't work at all." Jose is surprised to hear it, because he never thought his workaholic ex would manage to go on a real holiday. "And if I was a vampire, I'd sparkle in the sun, not crumble to dust." They both laugh. "You look pretty tan yourself."

"Was on a holiday myself. Hauled my ass to the Australian beaches. Learned to windsurf and ride them waves, baby. Once I nearly got eaten by a shark, when I went out too far, because bitch, I was giving it to these motherfucking waves," Jose says and puffs out his chest when Brooke looks mighty impressed.

"Wow, I didn't even know you know how to swim," he grins teasingly and Jose can't help himself, he has to step closer and slap his arm lightly.

"Biiiiitch, I'm Puerto Rican. Stop hatin' and discriminatin'!"

Brooke is still giggling. "What? I'm not! When you went on vacation with Silky you were wearing swimming vests in all pictures that showed you in the water. How am I supposed to know you know how to swim?"

"Girl, I'm the fucking white shark in the water. Well, brown shark, 'cause I'm not as white as your white ass, mama." Jose smirks. It feels so nice to be able to joke with him after that New York episode. Yet, he knew he could do it, he can bounce back from that one last slip up between them and be friends with him. They were always good at that. "Should have taken me on that Aruba trip, bitch, then I would have shown you."

"I haven't gone on that trip yet," Brooke informs him and Jose's mouth falls open.

"You let a trip to Aruba go to waste? You crazy."

"Didn't know your offer to come along to Aruba was still standing or I would have taken you a while ago," Brooke shrugs with a haughty smirk and a tone that is very Brooke Lynn Hytes. Jose only shakes his head, grins and looks to his feet. What is he supposed to say to that? It's comments like this that catch him off guard and make him feel slightly off-kilter. Would Brooke really take him to Aruba, if he asked? He looks up and over his shoulder when he feels an arm snaking around his waist from behind, before a warm body follows and presses up against his back.

"Who is going to Aruba?" Matt asks and places a kiss on his cheek.

"This idiot let a trip to Aruba go to waste, because he is working around the clock," Jose tells him and leans into his embrace. It's nice to have the support, especially when the conversation with Brooke ventures off into dangerous territory.

"You're Brock, right?" Matt asks and holds out his free hand, which Brooke shakes slowly, blinks just as slowly and nods. "So nice to meet you. I'm Matt, Jose's boyfriend."

***

"Nice to meet you, too" Brooke replies, once he finds his voice again. "I'm the ex." he adds with a self-deprecating smile and takes in the other man. He is tanned, blonde, with green eyes and cute dimples. Definitely trade. He is nearly as tall as Brock, but not quite, but he's definitely less buff than surfer-boy. He has an Australian accent and Brock wonders, if that's why Vanjie went on a vacation to Australia. Or has he met him there and brought him back as a souvenir for himself?

"I know. I watched the show and Jose told me the rest. We found one of your hoodies when Jose moved in with me. Did you bring it, babe? Would be an opportunity to give it back." Matt kisses Vanjie again, on the mouth this time. Brock is so stunned by the knowledge that they moved in together, that the info about his clothing or seeing them kiss barely registers in his brain. How long have these two been together? Were they already a couple when he saw Vanjie in New York five months ago? Is he the reason why he was kicked out of Vanjie's bed?

"Nah, didn't want to add more stuff to our luggage for Australia," Vanjie replies and puckers his lips, in a request for a yet another kiss that is so familiar that Brock nearly leans in himself. However, it's not for him anymore, it's for Matt. Brock feels like punching something. Or someone. It's Nina who saves him from himself.

"Hey Matt, I see you found him," he says, indicating that he was looking for Vanjie before. "Jose, how does the world not know about this hottie? How long has this been going on?" Nina asks the important questions and Brock wants to hear the answers to them and dreads them at the same time.

"Oh, you know, been learning about the privacy shit the hard way. Don't need all these little fuckers up my private business all the time and tagging me and my man in everything. He my babe and I don't wanna share him." Brock nearly gags when Matt wraps his other arm around Vanjie's waist as well, the smaller man cuddling into his tall boyfriend right in front of him. "We been together what now? Four months? Met in New York while I was dancing on Broadway and he was doing a play next door," Vanjie tells them.

"You're an actor?" Brock asks.

"Yes, classically trained and all. Finally moved to L.A. when Jose had to get back after his gig on Broadway was done. His apartment was too small, so we rented a bigger one. It just made sense," Matt shrugs good-naturedly, unaware of the rant that is going on inside Brock's head. Who does that? Who moves across the country for a guy he just met? And then moves in together? They weren't even dating for six months and were already living together? What were they, secret lesbians? And what would be next? They'd elope to Vegas and then adopt kids from third world countries, while Matt stays home, wears Vanjie's ridiculous apron, cooks and keeps the bed warm until Vanjie gets back from his gigs? Does he read him romantic sonnets with his stupid Shakespearean classical training? Who the fuck is this guy? Is this who Vanjie wanted him to be? Is this really what he wants when he talks about the Notebook experience? And that guy is supposed to make sense?

"Aw, that's so sweet," Nina gushes. Now Brock wants to punch her, too.

"I'm gonna get myself another drink. Anyone else wants something?" he asks the other three politely and leaves, grateful that they all shake their heads in the negative. He ends up locking himself in the bathroom, because it's the only quiet place he can find and he needs a moment alone to get himself back under control. It's ironic, he thinks, that just now, when he slowly comes to realise that a life with Jose by his side might not be too bad after all, it turns out that it isn't a possibility anymore. Because Jose has Matt now.

Brock: 0

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update because I felt bad how the last chapter ended.

5.

Jose gets out of the Uber and is still feeling as unenthusiastic about being here, as he was when he got into the car. But he promised to show up when Brooke asked him a couple of days back, while they had randomly texted memes back and forth and he was a little bit drunk.

He adjusts his sunglasses and the black cap he wears backwards on his head, before he makes his way up the driveway to the front-door.

He's right on time, which he knows is hours early for a drag queen, but he is not here as Vanjie. He is here as Jose, who welcomes his ex-boyfriend to L.A. and celebrates his housewarming party with him. And if he arrives early, he has an excuse to leave early, so he can avoid being asked about things he doesn't want to talk about.

It's a nice house from the outside and he is curious about the inside, even though Brooke mentioned in one of the random texts they have exchanged, that he kept most of the furniture of the former inhabitants, because he saw no sense in bringing his old and worn furniture all the way from Nashville.

Brooke greets him with a large smile when he opens the door. When they hug hello Jose allows himself to take comfort in the contact, press a little closer, and it gives him hope that tonight will go ok after all. It's not awkward yet.

"Hey, you're the first one." Brooke pulls back."It's so good to see you." It sounds heartfelt and Jose nods.

"Yeah, you, too. Thanks for the invite."

"You're alone?" Brooke looks out through the open door. "I thought you'd bring Matt," he adds unnecessarily, because Jose knew what he meant.

"Yeah, no. That didn't work out. We're not together anymore." He looks down to his feet, so he didn't have to look at Brooke. Jose fears he could read the whole story in his eyes and that's one thing he has to avoid at all costs.

Brooke doesn't need to know that Matt was just a way to get over their last shared night in New York. Brooke doesn't need to know that after seeing him again at Nina's, he fell back into the old habit of comparing everything Matt did or said to Brooke. Brooke, always the one he measured everyone else against. He also doesn't need to know that he was the one who ended it with Matt, breaking his heart in the process, because he realised he didn't love him and didn't really want to be with him. The whole thing wasn't fair to Matt, even if he didn't see it that way when he left him. There's only one guy Jose wants to live with and wake up with. He is standing right in front of him, completely clueless to the fact and Jose can't say a word to enlighten him. Because they're friends, right? And Brooke doesn't do relationships and he doesn't want him like that.

"I'm sorry. Are you ok?" Brooke asks him in a sympathetic tone and his hands are back on his shoulders, thumbs drawing circles on his naked skin. Jose looks up and nods.

"Yeah, sure. I have bad news for you though, Miss Brooke," he says then, because he needs to change the mood, before he gives into his own desires and buries his face in Brooke's chest and never lets go.

"What?"

"I kind of forgot to pack your hoodie when I left. He still has it." He is glad when Brooke just laughs. He might even look somewhat relieved. What did he think the 'bad news' were?!

"Forget about the fucking hoodie. And now come in, so I can show you my humble abode." Brooke keeps one of his arms around Jose's shoulders as he leads him from room to room and shows him the house. Jose is torn between wanting to step closer and shrugging the arm off, but he gets used to it again at some point and focusses on the things Brooke shows him in the house.

"Mary, I might need to change to your management if they help you make the coins to buy this palace," he says and whistles when he sees the outside with a large pool and a patio area.

"I didn't buy it. Lease is for four years and then we'll see. Originally I wanted to buy something, because it makes more sense at the moment, but being a single man with two cats, who works as a drag queen is apparently not really what the banks are looking for. The interests they wanted for a loan were crazy, so I decided to rent for now and save some money in the meantime," Brooke explains and Jose nods. "Where did you move to?" Jose thanks all the gods he can name that the doorbell rings at that moment and he doesn't have to answer.

"Go get the door, we'll talk later," he promises half-heartedly when Brooke seems to hesitate for a moment leaving him alone out on the patio.

"You help yourself meanwhile. There's red bull and some snacks in the kitchen," Brooke lets him know as he leaves and hurries back inside to get the door.

***

For a while Brock loses track of Vanjie, when more and more guests arrive and he plays the perfect hosts, handing out drinks and making sure everyone has a something to eat. It's not that big a crowd, mainly friends who live in L.A. anyway and some of his close family, who have come down from Toronto, now that he finally has the space to accommodate at least a few of them at the same time and no one has to sleep on the couch or the floor. It's an eclectic mix of people from different backgrounds and stages of his life, but they all seem to get along well.

The icing on the cake for him that night aren't the people who are here though, it's the one person who isn't, and the fact why he isn't: Vanjie isn't with Matt anymore. Even though Brock feels sorry for Vanjie, he is still glad he doesn't have to see them together, here in his own house. The Canadian in him made him phrase the invitation via text in a way that Matt could feel invited… or not.

He just refills the water in the kitchen when he sees a light underneath the door to his office. He knows that he put his cats in there so they wouldn't run outside, but so far he wasn't aware that they know how to work the light switch.

"I should have known it was you and not a burglar," he jokes when he opens the door and finds Vanjie lying on the floor with Henry lying next to him, letting him pet his head, while Apollo is sprawled all over him, butting his head into his chest, both cats purring.

"I heard them meowing when I came out the bathroom and decided to say hi to my old furry friends." Vanjie smiles widely with contentment. Brock wishes he had his phone with him so he could take a picture of this moment to keep it with him and look at it whenever he wants. "Looks like they missed me. So far Henry hasn't even bit me yet."

"You sure look comfortable, the three of you," Brock smiles back at him and sits down on the floor next to Vanjie, so he can pet both of his cats.

"We are comfy, aren't we, kitty cats?" Vanjie says to the cats and presses a kiss on Apollo's head when he rubs it against Vanjie's chin. Brock is so moved by the scene, he thinks he might start to cry any second. It's crazy how much he loves all three of them. Love… that reminds him…

"So, uhm, we didn't get to finish our talk earlier. I don't mean to pry or anything and you can tell me if it's none of my business, but: What happened with Matt? You're really ok? I don't need to drive to wherever he lives and beat him up?"

"I'd like to see you try, girl," Vanjie chuckles. "You'd stab a bitch for me?"

"Of course," Brock mock agrees and tries to crack his knuckles. He fails and Vanjie giggles so much that Apollo moves off his chest with a look so unnerved only a cat can give.

Then however, Vanjie sighs deeply and slowly sits up, so he doesn't startle Henry. "He was… nice. It just didn't work out. It is what it is." He fiddles with his fingers in his lap as he continues. "Only thing that really sucks, is that now I have to find a new apartment and I don't have time at the moment to go house hunting and moving and shit. All my stuff is at my mama's now and she keeps bitching about it being in the way."

"You staying with your mom?"

"No, I'm sleeping on Silk's couch for now, 'cause Jason's guest rooms are taken and I don't wanna stay at a hotel. It's just for another week, then I'll be in Europe anyway for two weeks. I won't be back in L.A. until my birthday and hope I'll find some time after to look for a place. Maybe Jason can help," he shrugs.

As he listens, Brock gets a crazy idea. Discards it and slightly shakes his head. Thinks it over again… looks at his cats snuggled up to Vanjie and decides that the idea might not be as crazy after all. "Ok, I know this might sound totally nuts, but I think I have an idea."

"Oh lord, this is gonna be good," Vanjie is strangely amused by his words and rubs his hands with glee written all over his face. "Mommy's got ideas."

"You said you won't be back until your birthday, right?" Vanjie nods. "And I have been wracking my brain about what to do when I'll be in Europe for the whole of October and November, since I don't wanna pay full rent for this place when I am not even here. My idea was to sublet it, since it has a second bedroom and bathroom downstairs, that go out to the patio." By then Vanjie looks more confused than amused. "But: you know how paranoid I am, and the thought of having a stranger living in my house with all of my stuff, gives me the creeps. You can see the problem?"

"Sure, mama. Want me to stop by and check on their stalker-y tendencies from time to time?" Vanjie doesn't seem to understand yet what Brock is getting at.

"No. I, like… I think, maybe you could move in here while I'm gone? There's enough space you can store your stuff here. And once you get back from Europe, I'll be in Europe and you'd have the house to yourself for a little over two months and could use the time to hunt for your own place." Vanjie shows absolutely no reaction. "I mean, it's better than Silky's couch, right?"

"Let me get this straight, just so that my tiny little puerto rican ears don't betray me here: You want me to live in your house while you're gone for two months? Is that really what you're saying?" He looks at Brock like he has grown two heads.

"Yeah."

"Bitch, when we were together you didn't even let me place my toothbrush in the same cup as yours."

"Yeah, because it's unsanitary and disgusting?!"

"You crazy! Real crazy, boo." Vanjie is laughing now.

"If you accept there would be a catch though." Brock uses the good mood to point out.

"Ah, child, I knew there was a problem with the fine print," Vanjie exclaims loudly, but is still grinning widely. "Spit it out."

"While you're here and I'm gone, you'd have to look after the cats." It takes a moment, but then the smile on Vanjie's face nearly blinds him because it turns so bright. He looks so happy and Brock wants to kiss him so badly.

"You'd really let me look after your cats? You'd trust me with them?" Vanjie seems to have a problem believing it and it saddens Brock a bit. How can he doubt that he trusts him?

"Of course. I can't think of a better cat sitter. I mean, look at you three," Brock points to where Vanjie is still sitting on the floor, with both cats sprawled out on his lap by now. By the way Vanjie looks down, he hasn't even realised that they climbed back on his lap and that he keeps petting them.

"What do you think, kitty cats? You'd get along with my noisy ass and Riley?" he asks them, but they just keep purring and enjoy the attention they get. "Let me think about it, ok?" When Vanjie looks at Brock he has a more serious expression on his face.

"Yeah, sure, ok," Brock agrees. "Wanna get back out there before they send a search party for the two of us?" he changes the topic.

"Yeah, we really should." They both get off the floor, much to the cats chagrin, and leave the room, making sure the door is closed behind them. "Hey, so uhm, just to be crystal," Vanjie says when they reached the patio door, "if I stay here, I'll be allowed to go all Baywatch in that large ass pool, right?" he grins and Brock finds himself laughing and rolling his eyes.

"Sure, Pamela," is all he says before they re-join the rest of the party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Better ending to a chapter? Can't tell because I know what's going to happen.
> 
> Again sorry for all mistakes and typos. I am flying solo without a Beta here and updating quickly just guarantees that I can't find my own typos.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again...

6.

Brooke has already left for Europe by the time Jose comes back from Sweden. Therefor he picks up the key at a neighbour's house and it's Silky who helps Jose move his boxes and suitcases from his mother's place to his new temporary home.

It feels weird stepping into his ex-boyfriend's house when he is not home, even knowing that he is going to live here for a while. Jose has stayed at many AirBnBs and hotels, but this is still different. Brooke sent him texts and even an email with the code for the alarm, phone numbers for the housekeeper and pool service and instructions how to feed the cats.

"Biiitch, now I get why you gone and moved in with the shady ho, instead of kicking it with my fat ass. This place is dope!" Silky exclaims once they have placed the last box in his room and he shows him the rest of the house and the pool area.

"I'm cat sitting," Jose insists.

"You sure lookin' after some pussy, but it ain't the feline kind," Silky jokes and laughs so loudly that both cats run back upstairs where they just came from a second ago.

"Be quiet, you scaring the kitty cats," Jose shushes him and is glad that he hasn't picked up Riley yet. It is going to be the next test, when he brings him in, because he has no idea how the pets will get along with each other. They've never met.

"When's Brooke coming back?"

"Some time after Thanks Giving. He didn't really know yet, because they keep adding more press and TV shows while he's over there."

"Meaning you have to move your fine ass back out beginning of December?"

"Yup, mami, that what it means. You better keep that couch ready," Jose jokes, but it falls flat. He doesn't want to move back in with Silky and he doesn't want to sleep on another couch. He wants his own place again, where he can feel at home when he gets back from all the travelling he does. The place he shared with Matt never really felt like home and he feels like he has lost his roots since he left his place after coming back from New York.

"You sure you gonna be ok here? You know I don't mind rooming with you, right?" Silky seems to pick up on his mood change.

"I'm fine. It's just weird, you know. I finally move in with Brock, but just to look after the cats and so he saves some rent. And we not living together, 'cause I'm only here when he isn't. And everyone freaks out and is like 'Oooh, you and Brock, one house, shacking up'. But he ain't even here. Just all of his stuff is, that I am not allowed to touch. It's fucked up and not at the same time, you know?" he rambles and tries to vocalise what he feels.

"You still in love with him, boo." It's not a question, because Silky knows. He's had the front row seat to the drama since it all started and he knows all the maddening details because Jose told him.

"I don't wanna be, but… fuck, I tried…like, with fucking with other guys and then with Matt. Tried staying away, tried being friends…" Jose trails off with a hopeless shrug. How do you make yourself fall out of love with someone, that is the question and he hasn't found the answer yet.

"Maybe, he'll be annoying you so much as your landlord, that you'll finally get over his Canadian bacon and can find some new?" Silky tries to cheer him up and Jose appreciates it. He knows that Silky doesn't really like the idea of him moving into Brock's house, no matter if his ex is home or not.

"Ain't that the truth, my friend," Jose agrees and lets himself fall backwards onto the couch.

"Wanna go and check out what kind of sex toys he's hiding in his sock drawer?" Silky asks suddenly and is up from the couch and on the stairs faster than Jose ever thought he could move.

"Silky! No! Bitch! I'll whoop your fat ass, if you so much as step one toe into his bedroom!" he yells and runs after him.

***

"Hey, roomie, how's it going?" Brock greets Jose on the phone and adjusts his Airpods so they won't fall out as he takes off his make-up.

"Good. Did you get the pic I sent you of Riley and Henry? They too cute together," Vanjie gushes over the phone and Brock smiles.

"Sure, I got it. Never thought I'd see the day when Henry lets anyone sleep with him on his blanket. Apollo's not jealous?"

"Nah, he just crawls into bed with me. He's good," Vanjie reassures him. Brock wishes he was home and could be the one to crawl into Vanjie's bed. Or at least witness him snuggling his cats. Ever since Vanjie moved into his guest-bedroom they text more than ever and talk on the phone at least every other day, but he still misses him more and more as time goes on.

"I miss them," he says and pretends he's only talking about his cats.

"They miss their mama, too. When are you gonna be back?"

"They added another guest judge appearance on the drag race live Christmas special in the UK, so we changed my flight back to the 23rd now," he sighs. He never meant to be away from home for so long and dump all the responsibilities of the house and the cats on Vanjie, but there's nothing he can do.

"You gonna spend Christmas here in L.A.? I thought you wanted to go and see your family."

"That was the plan, yeah. But I'm so tired and might just kill myself with the Xanax, if I add two more flights this month. I'm so fucking done for this year," he lets his frustration and tiredness shine through, is honest with Vanjie in a way he hasn't been with anyone but Steve. "I wanna be home."

"I get that. You better stop popping those pills, toes, or you'll get hooked on them." He sounds worried.

"I know." Another sigh follows, then Brock decides to get a grip and change the topic. "How is your house hunt going?"

"Honest? Pretty rough. Half the affordable places are complete shit holes or somewhere where I'd get mugged every day. One was straight out of a fucking horror movie with brown water, holes in the floor and mould on the walls. But I ain't not starring in my own American Horror story, at least not if they don't pay me the money, money, money. The other half don't want no drag queens, don't like dogs, don't like Latinos. It's fucking homophobic and racist, if you ask me.… I now send Jason out to rent a place through management so I can just show up later, but still nothing decent has come up yet." Vanjie seems to be as frustrated as Brock, albeit for different reasons. "But don't worry, I'll be out of your way when you get back." Vanjie makes it sound like a promise, but to Brock it feels more like a threat.

"Papi, you know you can stay for however long you want. You don't have to leave the second I get back. Take your time, ok?" he insists and wishes he could say more, could ask him to just stay, indefinitely, and as much more than a roommate or cat-sitter.

"Thank you. I appreciate it. But that wasn't the agreement, Mary," he replies softly. Like Brock cares about some vague agreement they made. They didn't even make a contract with a fixed sum for rent, if you don't count the two text messages concerning the topic. Before Brock can say more there's a loud crash and then Jose starts yelling so loudly, Brock fears his AirPods might explode. "Hey! Black panther! Get your furry ass off the kitchen counter! Aren't you cats supposed to be all quiet and shit? You more clumsy than Kim Chi in heels!"

"What did he knock over this time?" Brock laughs and has an idea what just happened, even without seeing it.

"That small metal table thingy beside the counter, that you had the orchids on."

"Had?"

"He knocked them over last week. Didn't I tell you? I nearly had a heart attack and hid under the covers in my bed with Riley, because I thought some sicko was burglar-ing the house," Vanjie starts the story and Brock simply laughs as he listens and keeps de-dragging. His frustration is carried away by his laughter and the sound of Vanjie's voice.

***

"Baby, I always knew one day you'd have a house with a pool, because you're a star," His mother gushes as she lies on the chair in her bikini, enjoying the warm weather in L.A. by the pool.

"It's not my house. I just rent a room here, temporarily," Jose points out and dips a toe back into the water.

"You'll have a house like this one day, mijo, believe your mama," she insists, always unshakeable in her belief in him and his success. "Where is your roommate again?" she continues. Jose hasn't had the guts yet to tell her who exactly his roommate is and just babbled something about a friend he knows from drag. It's not a lie, right?It also helps that nothing in the house really screams Brooke or has his name on it. His awards are hidden away in a cabinet in his office, which guests have no deal being in. There are no pictures of him or his family up either, which helps in Jose's case.

"Right now he's in London. Last show tonight," he knows, because he talked to Brooke on the phone until his mother rung the doorbell.

"You still coming over for Christmas? Or you gonna stay here with your 'roommate'?" Jose finds her smirking when he turns his head to look at her.

"I'm still coming over, mama. I told ya, the agreement is that I have to be gone when he is here. This ain't no normal roommate kinda situation. It's a house-sitter and cat-sitter kind of thing," he insists and feels like they had this discussion at least twenty times already. He really tries to avoid talking about his 'roommate' because he hates lying to her. Also, he doesn't want to give away that he is living under his ex's roof. Because how pathetic is that? At the same time ever since Brooke made it clear that he doesn't have to flee the country, just because he comes home, he's been a little less active when it comes to searching for apartments. Ok, maybe a lot less active, if he's honest.

"You gonna bring him along?" she asks, looking all innocent and sweet, lying there in the sun with her sunglasses on.

"Who? Riley?" Jose genuinely has no idea who she is taking about. Has he zoned out and missed something without even realising it?

"Brock."

"Brock? Why you talkin' about Brock? What the fuck does he have to do with anything?" both of his feet hit the water, because he is so surprised and can't do the gentle toe dipping anymore. He has to wipe his face when some water splashes up from the impact.

"Aren't they his cats?" his mother is grinning knowingly and points to the patio door, where Henry, Riley and Apollo are sitting and watching them through the window.

"Fuck!" He stares at her in disbelieve. "How do you know Brock's cats?"

"We are instagram friends. Also we text sometimes. He asked, if I have an idea what to get you for Christmas."

Jose's mind is blown. This is too much. He doesn't know, if he should cry or laugh, slap Brock or kiss him, confess everything to his mother or hide at Silky's for the next two years.

In the end, he holds his breath, slides into the pool and sinks to the ground. Because if that isn't metaphorical as fuck, then he doesn't know what is.

***

When Brock gets home, he is exhausted. Flying in from some fucking cold European country always seems to mean hours of delay. He'd hoped to make it home in the late afternoon, but now it's already past midnight. He leaves his luggage in the hallway and nearly stumbles over his cats, who are waiting for him on the stairs. He simply takes off his jeans and shoes before he crashes face first into his bed.

He wakes up around ten the next morning, quickly brushes his teeth and showers before he wanders downstairs. "Jose? Jose?" he calls out, after realising that he must have fed the cats, otherwise they would have woken him up way earlier. The house is silent and he guesses that he is maybe in his bedroom.

The door is open when he gets there and he doesn't even need to knock, because it's empty. The bed has been stripped, the knickknacks that were always lying around on the dresser, which he knows from their face-timing sessions, are gone. Hesitantly Brock opens one of the drawers and finds it empty. The only proof that Vanjie was really here are the boxes that are still stacked against the wall next to the bathroom door, and the faint scent of his cologne in the air. It hits him hard when he realises that Vanjie has fled the house as soon as he has returned and didn't even stay to chat or simply say hi. His excitement about being home is completely gone.

"Meow," he hears from behind him and finds both cats sitting on the naked bed, looking as sad as he feels.

"You miss him, too, huh?" he asks quietly, sinks down on the bed beside them and pets them for a while, lost in his thoughts. What else could he have done over the phone other than telling Vanjie that he was more than welcome to stay, even if he was home? With a groan he gets up, because he knows sitting in the room Vanjie has lived in for the last months won't make him feel any better.

Back upstairs he stops dead in his tracks when he reaches the living room that leads to the open kitchen. There's a huge, real, decorated Christmas tree sitting next to the patio door, the lights plugged in and twinkling. The whole room is decorated with all kinds of Christmas decorations, some of them so tacky it makes him laugh. It even smells like cinnamon and eggnog. On the couch table he finds an envelope with his name on it.

_Welcome home, toes,_

_Hope you like them ho ho hos (of Santa, bitch),_

_I know Brooke Lynn hates x-mas very much,_

_But I thought this place needed a little Vanjie touch._

_Santa left little presents in your stocking_

_Hope you find them totally rockin'._

_Ok, that really didn't rhyme for shit, I know. Hope you like my little Christmasy poem anyway. Cats are fed, litter box is cleaned and I ordered take out for you last night, so if you're hungry it's in the fridge. I kept the key, because I left the boxes downstairs. I'll pick them up as soon as possible and leave the key with the neighbour. Please text me when you read this and let me know you got home save._

_Merry Christmas to you and yours,_

_Jose_

Brock reads the rambling letter several times before he manages to tear his eyes away from the scribbles. His cheeks are hurting from smiling so much.

He looks around, because Vanjie mentioned presents, and he gasps when he sees the stockings on his fireplace. There are three stockings there, one saying 'Brock' one 'Henry' and one 'Apollo'. Brock is pretty sure Vanjie made them himself if the glittery letters are any indication. He peeks into the cat's stockings and sees customised Vanjie sweaters for them as well as collars and their favourite treats. He doesn't dare to touch his own yet, and takes a closer look at the whole scene, because something doesn't sit right with him and makes him swallow hard to keep the tears at bay.

***

Jose is still in bed by the time dinner comes around on Christmas day. He pulls the covers over his head every time his mother steps into the small guest room. He has been up for hours, but he doesn't want to talk to anyone, isn't hungry either. Riley is lying on the foot of the bed, looking at him with sad eyes and gives his bare foot a lick from time to time.

He knows Brooke is home and must have seen the decorations, his letter and the tree. And yet, he hasn't contacted him, hasn't even wished him a merry Christmas. It makes him feel like crap and he wishes he had taken his boxes back to his mother's place and simply left the key on the table, instead of a letter with a stupid poem, he spent forever composing.

It startles him when his phone suddenly vibrates and he thinks about ignoring it. It might just be another relative sending stupid Christmas memes. Curiosity wins in the end.

'You forgot some important decorations. Had to work hard all day to rectify it.' The message reads and Jose has to wait a couple of seconds until a picture comes through. It's a photo of the fireplace at Brooke's house, but instead of three stockings, there are five now. 'Brock', 'Henry', 'Apollo', 'Riley' and 'Jose' they read. The phone screen becomes blurry in front of Jose's eyes. Brock made Christmas stockings for him and Riley, with their names on them in sparkly fabric letters and everything. They even match the ones he made. It looks like his and Riley's names belong there, right next to Brock's. He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes in an attempt to stop the tears from falling. When another message comes through, he reads it immediately.

'Thank you so much for the amazing Christmas surprise, boo. I wish I had come home earlier last night and actually seen you. Your presents are waiting for you in your stockings. Riley's too. I'll be here until early January when I have to fly back to Toronto for a couple of weeks of shooting. Please, keep the key and come back whenever you like. I'd love to see you before I leave. Give my love to your family and enjoy dinner.'

'I have to leave tomorrow morning for my New Years tour. Wish I could stop by tonight, but my mother will kill me if I leave on Christmas Eve.'

':( See you early next year then?'

'Absolutely. See you next year' He adds an orange heart to the short message and hopes it gets across what he doesn't dare to write. He finally gets out of bed and gets dressed, so he can join the others at the dinner table. It is definitely the saver option, because he is sure the next time his mother checks on him, she will drag his ass out of bed by force if she has to. He just wants to leave the room when his phone vibrates again and he dives head first into bed to get it.

'Miss you, papi. Talk to you later?' it reads.

'Miss you too, toes. Talk to you later definitely!' His family looks at him like he has finally completely lost it, when he arrives at the dinner table with a large smile that doesn't leave his face all evening, after a whole day of sulking in bed like an absolute drama queen.

Santa: 2

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am delivering tissues with this one, since no matter what I write people always seem to end up crying. ;)

7.

Brock is home for exactly 4 days and two hours when he decides that the furniture in his bedroom and in the living room has to go. It doesn't look too bad, but it's just not him. Also he finds out the hard way that the couch in the living room is incredibly uncomfortable, after spending two days on it watching his favourite shows.

'I just decided to get new furniture for the house. What about your room?' he texts Jose. In general he wouldn't care too much about re-decorating the guest-room, but since he wants Jose to stay for a while, the idea might not be too bad.

Yet, he's come to think of it as Jose's room and he can't just go and change everything when he is not home. Maybe he wants to bring his own furniture or at least have a say about what goes in there?

'It's your house mama' Brock decides to call him after reading the reply, because discussing it via text suddenly seems stupid.

"I know it's my house, but it's your room. I mean, you're coming back, right? After your tour?" He speaks as soon as Jose picks up his phone.

"Slow down, Speedy Gonzales." He knows Jose is grinning by the tone of his voice. "I'll be back on the 5th, like I told you five billion times already. And I don't have any furniture to put in the room. The apartments I rented were always completely furnished, so I don't know. Leave in what's in or re-decorate it, I don't care."

"Alright, snake skin curtains, green walls and an overall jungle design it is."

"Bitch, you're giving me rainforest cafe nightmares just by describing it."

"You said, and I quote: 'I don't care'."

"Twinkle toes, I swear I'll whoop your ass, if I come back to some shit like that," Jose threatens jokingly.

"Then you better start thinking about what furniture you want."

"God, the work, woman!"

"Wait until I make you help me set it all up."

"Oooh, you're getting Ikea stuff? I wanna come! I wanna come! I love Ikea."

"Sure. I'll take you when you get here. Don't they also have hot dogs and these Swedish meatballs?" Brock is more excited about the food than the furniture shopping.

"Pescatarian here, bitch. But sure, you go ahead and stuff your face and I'll go Ikea shopping Vanjie style. Your house is gonna look so fresh. All sparkly mirrors and black tapestry, black shiny furniture, leopard print curtains, fake ice-bear furs… " Jose is trying not to crack up, Brock can tell, but he is kind of failing, because his voice gets higher and higher the longer he talks.

"You gonna turn it into the playboy mansion."

"If the shoe fits. Your bunnies just have more cock and less titties."

"You're such a dick," Brock roles his eyes, even though Jose can't see him. "No black furniture, no leopard print and no playboy bunnies. Just be here and be ready for some furniture shopping on January 6th."

"Ay, ay, mommy." Jose giggles and sounds like the cookie monster. "Just one more thing," he adds and Brock steels himself for more crazy coming his way.

"Mmh?"

"Do you promiseyou'll pick up little Jose after he's sick of the ball bath at the kids' club?" The cookie monster is back.

"I'm hanging up now."

"Bye baby."

"Byyyye!"

***

After the call Brock's phone gets flooded with pictures of wallpaper, tables, couches, rugs and complete concepts for living-rooms. Jose can't help it. Whenever he has a free second he keeps researching for ideas and sends them Brock's way. It doesn't matter that he will be home soon, when he finds something, he has to send it to Brock. So far that lead to Brock ordering three lamps, a couch table, a rug and a shelf from different online stores. He texts more ideas as he is sitting in the back of a car on his way to the last gig of his tour.

'Look at this bedroom! It's lit!! And I added three more pins for couches.'

'What are these pins and boards you keep babbling about? I can't open the link you sent.'

'It's the link to the pinterest boards I made for you. Still haven't opened them? I'm slaving away here, mama. At least look at them!'

'What's pinterest?'

"Child, you killing me here," Jose says after he has enough and calls him. "You the rich housewife of Beverly Hills and you don't know what pinterest is?"

"No, I don't." Brock is already laughing at him.

"Lord, give me patience! Now, you clean your ears, wash them real good, attach the hearing aid thingy and listen to me, grandma," Jose starts his rant and tries not to smile too much as he hears Brock's amused sniggers. "You listening?"

"How can I not, boo, you're loud enough."

"No talking back, bitch!" Another snort can be heard. "Now you go to that thing called app store on your phone or your laptop or ipad and then you download pinterest. Next, you gonna sign up like a good little white ho and then you follow me, Miss Vanessa Vanjie Mateo, because that's the most important thing. Don't matter if it hashtag Vanjie or hashtag missvajie, you follow them all. Still listening?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then, and only then, you clicked-y-clack, tapped-y-tap on the link I sent you and look at all the nice-ass furniture, decorations and dick-pics I neatly organised for you on different boards."

"You organised dick-pics on boards? What did you sort them by? Size? Shape? Color?" Brock can hardly talk he is laughing so much.

"Aha! Knew that one would get your attention. Guess your ho ass will have to find out by signing up," he teases, knowing full well he did not add any dick pics to the boards. It didn't even cross his mind to search pinterest for dick-pics.

"Ok, I will do that now." He's still laughing.

"Let me know what you think."

"About the furniture or the dicks?"

"Giiirl!" Jose just says, because he's suddenly embarrassed by the topic of conversation. Joking about sex and flirting has always been easy for the two of them, but talking about dick-pics of other guys feels weird. He doesn't want Brock to think about… that. He's stuck his foot in his mouth once again and doesn't really know how to get it out. If they were still a couple Brock's interest in the topic alone would be reason for him to get angry, but he doesn't have that right anymore. Doesn't mean he isn't jealous…

"Ok, I'm following your instructions now. Enjoy your last show and see you tomorrow, ok?" Brock helps him out.

"Yeah, see you tomorrow. Give the cats a kiss from me."

"Will do. Bye, papi." He hears a smacking sound over the phone and realises Brock has just blown him a kiss.

"Bye toes. Mmmwaahh." He does the same and hangs up with the biggest smile on his face.

***

Brock wakes up to the sound of Jose's loud singing. He yawns widely and stretches, still incredibly tired, but strangely content because of the sounds around him.

Jose was supposed to get in last evening, but then the tourbus got stuck in traffic and while Brock waited up until after midnight, he didn't get to see him last night. He quickly puts on a shirt and brushes his teeth before he makes his way downstairs, following the singing into the kitchen.

He finds Jose standing in front of the coffee machine, naked torso, towel wrapped around his hips, wet hair combed back, his back towards the door, hips swinging from side to side as he sings along to what sounds slightly like the melody of 'Castle on a hill'. The lyrics are obscene and absolutely non-sensical. Brock is sure he makes them up as he sings.

He leans against the doorway with a smile on his face and just watches him, follows single drops of water with his eyes, as they drip from his hair to his shoulders and then run down his back. It's so sexy. He missed seeing him like this. Having stolen moments like this back in his life gives him a very warm and fuzzy feeling.

"Fuck," Jose exclaims when he turns around with his coffee cup in hand and is so startled by Brock standing there, that he spills his coffee. Hemust have burned his finger because he brings it up, sucks it into his mouth and then blows cool air on it. "You nearly gave me a heart-attack, creep," he grumbles as he puts his cup down on the counter.

"You're back." Brock can't stop grinning.

"I'm back." The smile on Jose's face mirrors Brock's.

A moment later Brock has his arms full of a half-naked and slightly wet Puerto-Rican. He tries to keep the hug as casual as possible, but when his nose brushes against the damp hair, he just has to rest his cheek against the top of Jose's head and breathe him in. It feels like forever since they saw each other in person. And it kind of is, because it was at the housewarming party months ago.

"I missed you," he mutters with his nose buried in Jose's hair, eyes closed. He feels Jose's arms tighten around his middle as he presses his face into his shirt-clad chest.

"I missed you, too, toes."

"When did you get back?" Brock slowly pulls back after holding him for a long moment. "I waited until shortly after midnight and then couldn't keep my eyes open anymore."

"I think it was around three?" Jose steps back towards the kitchen counter and picks his coffee back up. "Want some, too?"

"Yes, please. Oh, and I bought you more splenda. I realised we were out," he points out when he sees Jose scrunch up his nose after taking a sip of his coffee. "It's in the cupboard over there."

"Thank you." Before he adds the sweetener to his coffee, he hands Brock his own cup.

"Why are you up already if you got in so late?"

"We're going to Ikea today, right? Didn't want to risk you going alone and leaving my ass asleep in bed," he admits from the other side of the breakfast bar and Brock groans about the over excitement of going to Ikea. Jose is a bundle of energy on normal days, but when he is excited about something, his energy levels are off the charts and Brock knows he's in for an interesting shopping trip.

"No way I'd leave you here. I'd never hear the end of it. But I still need a moment before we can leave. I haven't even showered yet."

"Bitch, you hugged me all gross and stinky like that? I just showered!" Jose bristles.

"Didn't hear you complaining then."

"No, but I am complaining now." Jose is completely ridiculous and cute in his fake annoyance. "Oh, I know…" he adds suddenly and a second later Brock is surrounded by a cloud of cologne.

"Fuck, what are you doing?" he coughs and waves his hands in front of his face.

"Dealing with your unshowered ass. A fan gave me this," Jose giggles and holds up a bottle of cologne he's pulled out of the duffle bag lying on the kitchen counter.

"That's not one of your usual brands…God! Even if I didn't shower for weeks, it'd probably still be better than this! It's disgusting!" Brock is still coughing. The madness has already started and they haven't even left yet.

"True dat." Jose cackles and opens the window behind him.

***

"They see me rollin',they hatin', patrolling and tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty. My music's so loud, I'm swangin', they hopin' that they gonna catch me ridin' dirty…," Jose sings contently and wiggles his shoulders to the rhythm in his head as he pushes the shopping cart.

So far he's had the best time ever furniture shopping with Brock. They'd first looked around, checking out what they liked and didn't like. They are both in a goofy mood, play fighting with the swords in the kids section, mock decorating a room for the pets and discussing colour schemes. Jose is surprised at first how much Brock wants his input. It feels a bit like creating a home for the both of them, together. Several times he has to pause and remind himself that he is only a temporary house guest and his ex boyfriend, with emphasis on ex, most likely just wants some advice and trusts his eye for decorations.

He gives the cart another push, then jumps up, holding onto the handle, making his feet dangling in the air as the cart rolls forward. Brock throws another pillow case into the cart as Jose slides by, before he steps behind him, traps him between his arms and keeps pushing the overflowing cart.They have found blankets, pillows, bedspreads and picture frames. Also a couch, shelves, two new wardrobes and two bed-frames and matching night-tables, that they will order to be delivered later.

"You think we got everything?" Brock asks him. Jose thinks for a moment, looks at the assortment of things in the cart, nods and lets himself slide back to the ground. He slightly misjudges the distance because Brock is much closer than he thought.

"Sorry," he says when he lands with both feet on Brock's. Brock doesn't let go of the handle though and Jose can't go anywhere. His back is against Brock's front, all solid and strong behind him. The cart comes to a halt, but there is nothing he can do. Brock lets go of the cart with his right and slowly wraps it around his middle. Jose's breath hitches at the sudden unexpected contact that makes arousal shoot through his body. He wants to turn around, wrap his arms around him and kiss him. He wants to slide his hands underneath his shirt and feel his skin under his fingers. He wants to taste him, make him moan…. The grip around his waist tightens and he is slowly lifted up, then set back down slightly to the side, so his feet touch the ground.

"Let's go pay and then order the stuff that needs to get delivered. There's no way we can even fit half the shelves in your car." Brock steps back from him and walks in the direction of the cash registers, unfazed as always. Jose is frozen for a second, because Brock pulling away feels so abrupt and wrong.Then he follows him quickly, decides to get a grip, before he embarrasses himself when Brock realises how much the short contact affected him.

"They see me rollin', they hatin', patrolling and tryin' to catch me ridin' dirty…" he starts singing again, but this time it's to pretend that nothing is different and that he is totally chill about being this close to the man he loves, when he obviously isn't affected by him in any way. It's a fact that he should be used to already, but it still stings.

***

Brock looks at Jose and watches as the shorter man assembles one of the lamps they bought, tongue peeking out between his teeth, while they both sit on the floor in front of the couch in the living room.

Something is off, but he can't quite put his finger on it. Jose is a bit quieter than usual, smiles a little less, the jokes are a bit less ridiculous… but maybe it is just all in his head.

Everything still feels a bit fuzzy after Jose jumped onto his feet by accident and was closer to him than he's been in months. When he couldn't take it anymore, he moved Jose away from his crotch, before he had to finish shopping at Ikea with a hard-on.

He and Jose have been in the house together for less than a day and already he feels like he is losing his mind. He knows that if they spend more time together in the future, there is no way he will be able to keep his hands off him. Before he feared that would be the case, now he knows it with certainty. It's not simply arousal and sex though, it's much more. He wants to be allowed to wrap his arm around his shoulder as they walk, kiss him whenever he wants to and cuddle up to him when they are sitting as close as they are at the moment.

"Hey, snoozy, stop dreamin' and start workin'. While you sleeping with open eyes, I did two lamps and unpacked all the picture frames," Jose snaps him out of it and throws a ball of plastic foil at his head with surprisingly good aim.

"I carried all the stuff in while you were cuddling the cats," he defends himself with the first thing that comes to mind.

"Now listen, this ain't my shit and I haven't seen the babies for weeks. I missed them." The comment just makes Brock love him even more, leaves him tongue-tied. "You already know what pics you gonna put in them?" he asks looking at the picture-frames.

"Not really. I just bought them because I liked them. I think they'll look great on the wall over there."

"This would be good for the cats," Jose holds up a wooden double frame. "This could be for a family photo," he holds up another one, which is slightly bigger than the rest. "And this?" he shows him a frame that consists of at least twelve single frames, "This could be for your trophies."

"My trophies?" Why would he put up pictures of his trophies? Not that he has won as many as there are frames.

"Your dick trophies. Take a dick pic of every piece of trade you bring home and add it. The dick wall. Wall of trophy dicks," Jose jokes and laughs. It still sounds off. Maybe that's why Brock finally speaks up, maybe it's because he just can't stand it anymore or maybe it's the whole day and the lack of sleep, but he's had enough.

"Why do you always assume I bring home guys all the time?" He's not angry, just curious and slightly hurt.

"Uhm, hello, Brooke Lynn Ho, you remember the whole freedom speech you give every now and then? The way you flirted with everyone when we were together? I can't count how many times I've seen you with your tongue down some guys throat when you were drunk while on tour." Jose has always had a very short fuse and that hasn't changed. Already his arms are crossed in front of his chest, his cheeks are tinted red, eyes narrowed.

"Listen, I know I like to flirt sometimes," he starts.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the understatement of the century." Brock gives him a look and he falls silent.

"I know I like to flirt," he starts again, "and I am not a monk. Kissing, jerking someone off, the odd blow job… yes, I am a man and I like that, sometimes even with strangers when I am single. However, I don't take sex lightly. I haven't had a guy over since I moved in here and I am not planning on bringing anyone. I hate the awkwardness that comes with trying to get them to leave. I don't… you always make me sound like I am some pro at one night stands and that couldn't be further from the truth. Like, the last time I had sex, was with you in New York." There's silence as he lets it sink in. "And while we're at it: I also need you to know that I never cheated on you while we were together. You never asked, but somehow I get the feeling you always assumed I did. But I didn't." He doesn't know how Jose is going to react, because he stares at him, arms still crossed, yet Brock feels slightly better now that he has got that off his chest.

"You and me, we have very different ideas what cheating is, bitch."

"I really don't think so," he states calmly, knowing if he gets offended now, this will just turn into another fight. They had enough of those when they were still together. "When we were together, I didn't kiss anyone else, I didn't touch anyone else, I didn't have sex with any other person than you in any kind of way," he spells it out for his ex and moves closer to him, slowly uncrosses his arms and laces his fingers through his, when he doesn't pull away and lets him unclench his fists. "I didn't sext or chat online, go on grindr or did anything with anyone else. Ok? Please, tell me you believe me." The look in Jose's brown eyes is cautious for what feels like an eternity. Then they get softer and Brock knows he has got through.

"Ok, I believe you." Jose's voice is so quiet he barely hears him, which adds to the feeling that something has just shifted between them. It couldn't feel more enormous had Jose yelled his reply. "I believe you, boo," he repeats and wraps his arms around his neck. Brock realises that Jose's whole body is shaking with tension that slowly dissolves. It hits him that he really believed all this time that he had been cheating on him when they were still together. That explains so much, he thinks, and holds him tightly against his body, wishing they had this talk before, so Jose wouldn't have carried all this unnecessary hurt and mistrust around with him for such a long time.

***

Jose kind of knows this is inevitable from the moment he wraps his arms around Brock's neck. One moment they are hugging and he feels the relief that comes with the knowledge that the man he loves hasn't ever cheated on him. They might not be together anymore, but the thought of 'I wasn't enough' that was closely linked to the alleged cheating remained a wound that never stopped bleeding. Now he can feel it healing like someone has applied magic balm.

A moment later they are sitting on the living room floor holding each other even closer, hands roaming over each others bodies as they kiss deeply. He knows he will regret this later and he will feel like crap afterwards and still, he will only want more. He can't stop it. He wants Brock too much and it's been so long.

They lose their clothing on the living room floor and both laugh when Jose gasps loudly as his naked butt touches the cold tiles.

"This better?" Brock asks him when he lies down on top of him, after helping him up on the couch.

"Uhuh," he smiles and kisses him again. He can finally slide his hands down his back, play with his curly hair again, give his ass a squeeze or two and grind against him, their cocks sliding against each other. They know each others bodies so well.

When Jose sucks that one spot on his neck he'll groan. When Brock dips his tongue in his belly button it makes his hips jerk. They explore each other thoroughly on the couch in the living room, taking notice of any changes, new reactions and leave small new marks themselves. They both come grinding against each other, still kissing passionately.

Jose lays his head down on Brock's chest, both of them breathing hard. He feels a kiss being pressed against the crown of his head and it makes him smile; a contentment enveloping him which he hasn't felt in so long.

"Jose?" Brock asks after a while, when he starts dozing off. "Can we please move? My back is killing me on this couch and I'm lying in a wet cum spot."

"You're such a romantic ho," Jose laughs out loud but sits up, lets his hands glide over Brock's chest one last time in the process.

"Shut up or do you want to switch positions?" Brock shoots back, snickers and picks his shirt up from the floor to wipe himself clean. Jose quickly puts on his briefs before he follows his example, then throws the shirt in Brock's face as a reply to the question.

"Hey!" Brock yells and tries to grab him, but Jose is faster, jumps over the back of the couch and runs off towards the kitchen laughing and screaming. Brock doesn't follow immediately, but also puts his underwear back on before he chases him around the kitchen counter.

"You are disgusting!" he tells him when he catches him, then kisses him again. Jose finds it sweet and perfect, because they are joking and teasing and just being them, without it becoming awkward after sex, when it's still completely undefined what they are or what they are doing. There's no book of rules to play by, but he feels happier than he's been in months.

"No, you know what's disgusting? That uncomfortable couch of yours, that now has your drying cum stains on it," he points out and makes them both chuckle.

"Mine? I think your DNA can be found there as well."

"Maybe. Gonna get it cum-stain-paternity-tested if we got it pregnant?"

"The new couch will get here next week. We're just gonna throw this one out tomorrow," Brock ends the stupid discussion about the cum stains. It's cute how he gets flustered by stuff like this sometimes.

"And what are we gonna do now?" Jose knows his smile is salacious as he presses back up against Brock.

"How about we get something to eat? We only had breakfast and it's close to five already." A peck follows his words, makes it clear that this isn't rejection.

"Oh no, you forgot to get your hotdog and meatballs," he suddenly remembers.

"I was kind of distracted, you know," Brock laughs and squeezes Jose's butt. Apparently, he was not as unaffected as he thought. The knowledge is delicious.

"You wanna go out or order in?"

"Postmates? We could shower while we wait for the food, then eat and maybe talk?" The last part sounds hesitant.

"Yeah, we really should talk," Jose agrees, becoming serious. They've done this before, had sex, but they never really talked about what it meant. It always fucked him up big time. Now that they live in the same house it's a bit more complicated. They can't just ignore each other for months until it doesn't hurt as much anymore. What does that make them? Are they back together? Roommates with benefits? Exclusive or not? Does he have to move out now?Brock's cellphone rings and stops the questions popping up in his head all of a sudden.

"You order pizza or something and I'll go and see what Steve wants?" Brock asks, knowing by the ringtone who it is.

"Deal," he agrees, scores himself another peck and wanders back into the living room to get his cellphone.

***

Brock feels like screaming or hitting something. Crying out of frustration would also work. He can't believe this. He's so upset he even yelled at Steve. He's glad Jose was in the shower and didn't hear him.

He's still standing in his kitchen clad in his underwear, but the happiness from a couple of minutes ago is gone. He doesn't know what to do, but he also knows he has no choice. He pinches the bridge of his nose when he feels himself tearing up.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Jose is watching him from the doorway, wearing shorts and a shirt now after his shower.

"That was Steve."

"I know."

"He let me know that my flight tomorrow evening got cancelled for whatever reason."

"So?"

"I have to leave in three hours and go to the airport. It's the only flight that was left which gets me there in time for shooting and has free seats left." He doesn't want to look up, doesn't want to see the expression on Jose's face. If he's only half as disappointed as he is, it's already too much. They need to talk…. He doesn't want to leave. It feels a bit like he's the one kicking him out of his bed this time, even though he's not. He's not!

"Have you packed already?"

"No." Looking up, he's finally meeting Jose's eyes. They're disappointed, but not angry and, thank god, not hurt. "It'll be six weeks of shooting," he points out and doesn't give a shit about his luggage at the moment.

"Come on, toes. Go take a shower, then we'll eat and pack your stuff. I'll drive you to the airport." Jose's voice is soft, maybe even encouraging and Brock is thankful for it. He nods and walks towards the hallway, stops beside Jose in the doorway. He doesn't dare touching him.

"You gonna be here when I get back from Canada?"

"When's that exactly?"

"17th of February."

"I'm gonna leave on the 14th for another round of the show in Vegas. Three weeks this time, I think." Brock swallows hard when he hears the resignation in Jose's voice. Another two months apart at least, with absolutely nothing resolved between them. He keeps it together until he's in the shower, then allows himself to let out the tears of frustration he held in for too long.

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics in this chapter by Chamillionaire ft. Krayzie Bone - Ridin


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains the one scene that has been stuck in my head since before I even had the overall idea to the story. I'm happy to have it out of my head and out there now.  
Hope you like the chapter.

8.

"Heyyy, Miss Vanjie, Miss Vanjie, Miss Vanjie," he hears and turns around in the small backstage area of the club. He knows that voice.

"Cyst! Ahh, come here!" he exclaims and hugs his season eleven sister. "How are you, bitch?"

"Good. How are you? It's been forever. Saw your tour dates last year. God, that's crazy!" Soju looks amazing and is still in full drag. They must have missed each other earlier when he was on stage.

"Believe me, child, I know. I'm glad I'm home for a couple of weeks now before I have to leave again mid February. Just dancing it up at the local clubs, you know, and filming with mama Ru here and there. Couple of music vids…"

"Yeah, just rub it in."

"Cyst, I ain't bragging! I'm complaining about my busy life. All work, no play for Miss Vanjie these days." He finally manages to block his wig, so he can pack it up. It's his third gig for the day and he is just done.

"You staying right? Mercedes is out there somewhere already checking out the trade and getting the drinks ready. It's cocktail night!" Soju sounds like she had a few too many already.

"I love cocktail night! But I can't stay. I gotta get home." Those were the days my friend, he thinks. He can no longer stay after gigs, party and drink until the early hours of the morning. He has appointments in the morning, all day really and most of the time more than one gig a day. Days off are rare and far apart and relaxation means not having to drive for hours or hop on a plane to get to the next show. He loves to stay home for a while, sleep in his own bed, look after the pets. A year or two ago he would have thought that to be boring, would have dragged his own ass out of the house to party and drink. Maybe he's just getting older?

"Your man already waiting for you? Didn't know Miss Vanjie is all loved up again. That piece of new hasn't made it to me yet." It seems to be the only explanation for his behaviour Soju can come up with.

"Bitch, there's no man waiting for me at home. Came straight to the gig from San Fran' and what's waiting for me at home is two hungry kitty cats, a dog that needs walking and a litter box that needs cleaning. That's the kind of romance I get these days and I better be sober for it! Or I'll get lost with Riley again and have to Uber my way back home with the dog." He is telling the absolute truth and not at the same time.

Since his last encounter with Brock he has decided that he wants him back, one hundred percent. As his boyfriend, partner, significant other and nothing less. He will give him the freedom he craves, as long as he doesn't cheat, and he will show him that he has grown.He also won't go back to picking up trade. It feels like cheating now, even if he doesn't know yet if his operation 'get B back' will be successful. He knows Silky would call him a stupid ho for that, but why hook up with someone when it doesn't feel good?

"You got lost while walking your dog?"

"Mama, you try walking the doggy at night when you so drunk you can't see straight in a neighbourhood you barely know, because you barely home. For all I know, it could have been the Himalaya, because, child, these mountains were high and the valleys deep."

"Ok, but give us a call while you're still in LA. Need to go partying together again for old times sake, right? Maybe we could ask Kameron to come. He's in LA now too, right?. And Brooke? Doesn't she live here now?"

"Yup, but I think they're shooting Drag Race Canada at the moment." There's no thinking about it, though. He knows, because Brock hasn't been home in weeks, but their living arrangement is none of Soju's business. One word to her and everyone would know.

"That Brooke Lynn bitch. Always winning even when she's not winning. Except for you, girl. She lost big time there." For a moment Jose fears Soju might be coming on to him, but then she laughs.

"Preach it loud and proud, cyst." He raises both hands heaven-wards before he continues packing his stuff. "You know what? A night out sounds great. I'll see if I can get Miss Kameron away from his video games and text you," he decides.

"He's a gamer? What kind of games?"

"Bitch, how would I know? I understand maybe ten percent of the video-gamer-y shit he says, even though he my gym buddy with Silks. For all I know he speaks Klingon. Ask him when you see him."

"I will. I hope he's into the classics like Final Fantasy."

"Now listen child, Imma kick your ass so hard your cyst's gonna pop again, if you don't stop talking video gaming shit. I'm trying to get my shit packed without you intora… intergat…you asking me questions!" With that Soju is thrown in a fit of giggles and Jose can pack his stuff so he can finally go home and check on his furry babies.

***

It's the scent of coffee and bacon that makes Brock leave his bed and walk into the kitchen, where he finds his parents at the table.

"Good morning," he greets them.

"Good morning," they both reply. He gets himself a cup and a plate and checks his phone quickly as he sits down. There aren't any messages or missed calls that he's interested in. He ignores all the notifications about being tagged in pictures as he opens instagram, and goes straight to Jose's account, knowing he posted new stories.

It's the usual mirror selfies and Brock smiles when he realises they are taken in the hallway and not downstairs in Jose's room. A boomerang of Jose walking Riley, showing off yet another pair of new shoes. And then four more videos of a night out at a club: Jose dancing with his drag sisters, Vanjie performing on stage, Jose doing shots with Soju and Kameron and finally more dancing with a guy Brock doesn't know. He can't hear what's being said and screamed towards the camera, because he has the sound turned off, aware of his parents' presence.

He feels the familiar jealousy bubble up. The feeling ten times as strong these days, since they are texting and talking less than the last times they were apart. It's always him who has to start the conversation now, always him who has to call. Beside the odd pic of the cats there is no initiative on Jose's part anymore.Maybe he misread him when he had to leave and he was angry after all? When he thinks about it, he remembers that he didn't even get out of the car at the airport and just gave him a small wave from behind the wheel, before he drove off and left him standing in front of the terminal with all of his luggage.

He switches the cellphone off and picks his cup back up, sipping his coffee as he listens to his parents talking, without really paying attention to what they are saying.

"Brock? Brock?" he hears his mother and shakes his head to regain focus.

"Sorry. What?"

"You ok?" his mother asks him.

"Yeah, sure," he nods and gives them a smile that he hopes is convincing.

"You know we know that's bullshit right? This about a guy?" his dad joins the conversation and takes Brock by surprise. He is used to his no nonsense ways, but he's usually quiet when it comes to anything related to him being gay.

"You sure you wanna hear about this?"

"So it is about a man," his mother nods. "If it's about shenanigans I wouldn't approve of then no. If it's about someone you truly care about, why not? You're not a kid anymore," his mother assures him.

"You remember Jose?" he decides to take the chance and talk to his parents about this for once. It can't get any more complicated anyway, so why not try?

"Miss Vanjie," his mother translates for his dad and lets him know she does remember at the same time.

"Short version is that when we meet, we, like, can't really let go of one another. It's been happening since we broke up. Not always, but sometimes. After the housewarming party he moved into my house to look after the cats whenever I'm not there and because he has troubles finding an apartment," he tries to leave out all unnecessary and dirty details, but it's hard. "He decorated the whole living-room for Christmas as a surprise, but kind of fled as soon as I touched down in LA." He drinks more coffee to buy himself time. "Before I came here, we went furniture shopping and like… things happened and I thought we were finally on the right track, agreed to talk… then I had to leave and now he's kind of MIA, if I don't contact him. He's pulling back and I can't do anything." He looks at his parents and hopes they are not going to run off and pray for his soul any second.

"He was your first boyfriend and you're still in love with him," his mother sums up what he already knows.

"Does he know? That you want him back?" His dad chimes in.

"I don't know… I think so… I don't know, that I want him back like that. He's.… It didn't work last time. He was…I need… I can't do that again like it was. The end sucked."

"I don't know him well, because I only met him twice, but we watched the show, Brock. We listen to those interviews and podcasts. We also know you. He's very… temperamental and hot headed from what I've seen, and every time he talks I want to wash his mouth out with soap. But he's also someone who seems to feel very deeply, is very caring and not at all fickle. I'm sure he has his reasons for what he's doing. You should just talk to him."

"Thank you, mommy," he replies, touched by her assessment and chuckling about the soap comment.

"He's Puerto Rican, right? So he's catholic?" his dad wonders and Brock can only groan. Some things never change.

***

It's become routine by now: Unlock the door, disarm the alarm, throw his duffle in the laundry room and drag his suitcase into the living room, so he can unpack in silence and with enough space. He's only been gone for two days, but in a way the short trips can be more exhausting than longer ones, because there is barely any time to sleep between travel, gig and traveling back.

"Babies, mama's home," he calls out, wondering where the cats are. There's a neighbour who feeds them when he and Brock are both gone, but Riley is more work and is still at Jason's. He'll pick him up later once he's had a nap. He hears a noise from the couch and sees Apollo jump down from it, stretching before he comes over to greet him.

"Hey, panther, where's your brother at?" he asks and pets him, gives his chin the scratches he wants and is rewarded with a few head buts and purring. It's weird because Henry is usually the first one to greet him, knowing he'll get something to eat.

"Henry? Buddy, where are you?" He starts to worry when even the sound of the food hitting the bowl doesn't make him appear. He checks his usual spots in the living room, the den and the kitchen. When he walks into the hallway he hears a weird sound coming from the stairs to his room. Henry is cowering on the stairs, a strange look in his eyes.

"Hey, what's wrong little one?" He gently rubs his head and finds his ears unusually warm. That's when he sees the drops on the carpet that look like blood and something else. As gently as he possible he checks the cat and finds a wound by the side of his neck that is dripping puss and blood and smells horrible. "Shit, baby, what's that?" he asks and can't keep the panic from his voice. Henry replies with a pitiful and weak sound.

Brock has left emergency instructions that include knowing where the cat carrier is and which vet he goes to, as well as their phone number. Jose is glad when they quickly pick up and tell him to come over immediately.

He tries calling Brock on the ride to the vet, then again while he waits there, but he isn't picking up his damn phone. He also texts him to call him. Texts again to answer the phone. He texts him the same thing so often his fingers never really stop flying over the screen, as long as he waits for the vet to call them in.

***

Brock can't remember ever feeling as much terror and panic as he feels when he checks his phone after a day of shooting and finds over 20 missed calls and nearly 40 text messages from Jose, that all basically just say 'Call me back' and 'pick up the phone'. His heart nearly beats out of his chest, thinking about all the things that could be wrong. What if he is hurt? What if something happened to him? Did something happen at the house? He scrolls through the message and finally around number 25 he finds one with a bit more information 'Henry's at the vet. Might need surgery. Please call me!!!!'

He tries calling him back, but can't reach him. Goes on to call Steve, the production, the vet clinic and the airline. He's already waiting for boarding when he finally gets a message back from Jose.

'Sorry, phone died. He's in surgery now. Know you called the clinic. I'll keep you updated." He wants to call him, but then boarding starts and he has to switch off his phone.

Back in L.A. he jumps out of the taxi and runs up his own driveway. "Jose? Jo?" he calls, but everything is pitch black and the car is gone. He just leaves his bag beside Jose's suitcases in the living room and takes another Uber to get to the clinic.

It's already closed, but he rings the emergency doorbell, because he simply needs to know how his cat is. The receptionist is sympathetic and brings him up to date. Surgery is over, they were able to remove the abscess without any problems and he's doing well. He will have to stay for a couple of days because they have to clean the wound two times a day and get his fever down. He is so very relieved.

"Can I see him real quick?" he asks the nice vet's assistant. He just needs to, because he hasn't seen him in weeks and feels bad for leaving him for so long.

"Sure, there's also someone else we really need you to pick up tonight," she smirks, which confuses Brock. Has Jose taken Apollo along as company?

As soon as they step into the room with the kennels for the pets, Brock knows what she means. The sight makes his heart ache in a good way: Jose is sitting on the floor in front of Henry's box. His legs are stretched out on the floor, his forehead pressed sideways against the grid and he's fast asleep, one finger still reaching out to Henry through the grid, the cat snoozing as well. Just when he thought he couldn't love him more, Jose goes and does shit like this. It makes his whole being filled to the brim with admiration and love for him.

"Just give me a minute and I'll get him out of your hair," he tells the nurse without taking his eyes off the most touching scene he has ever seen.

"You know, owners are usually not allowed back here, but Jose was quite insistent he couldn't leave Henry." She seems as charmed by him as the rest of the world.

"I can imagine," he nods and waits until she has closed the door behind her before he takes a picture with his phone and then walks towards him. He crouches down beside him and runs his fingers gently through his hair. "Hey, boo, rise and shine," he tries to rouse him as gently as possible. "Jose," he calls when he gets no reaction, but doesn't stop the caresses.

"Henry?" he mutters as he slowly opens his eyes, blinking against the light.

"Henry's fine." Brock assures him and keeps his hand on his cheek, cupping it so he is looking at him.

"You here." He looks surprised and sits up.

"Yeah, I had to come." He slowly moves his hand up and strokes his thumb over Jose's forehead. "You got the indentation of the grid here," he smiles.

"Didn't wanna leave him all alone. Must be scary for the little man after the surgery and all," Jose explains and blushes like he said something stupid, before yawning widely.

"Thank you," Brock replies and places a kiss on his cheek. "Come on now. Let's go home," he adds and gets up before holding his hand out to Jose.

"We not staying with him?"

"No, we're not even supposed to be back here. He'll be fine, he's asleep and they're gonna take good care of him."

"K," he finally takes his hand and lets him lead him out of the clinic. He hands the car keys to Brock without another word.

During the drive Jose seems to become smaller in the passenger's seat, the more alert he gets. By the time they arrive at home, his shoulders are basically up to his ears, his eyes glued to the floor and his hands are nervously fiddling with his sleeves. "Good night," he mutters and disappears downstairs as soon as they enter the house. Brock doesn't understand what goes on in Jose's head, but all he can do is give him some space tonight and address it tomorrow morning, if he's still in the same mood.

Brock tosses and turns for a while in his own bed, the cup of tea he took upstairs with him long cold on the night-stand. He contemplates turning the tv on or taking some sleeping pills, when he hears steps coming up the stairs. He waits, heart beating against his chest, but nothing happens.

"Hey," he says when Jose just keeps standing in the doorway, staring into his dark bedroom without saying anything.

"Hey," the voice and the sniffle give away that Jose is crying. Brock is surprised by it, but hopes that he is going to find out now, what is wrong with him.He sits up and switches the small lamp on his nightstand on, then holds out his hand. Jose comes closer and takes it, before he sits down on top of the bed covers and drops it again. He still refuses to look at him, just keeps sniffling and wiping his tears away with the back of his hands.

"I just…" he finally speaks up. Brock waits patiently, but his heart is hurting watching him. "I just wanted to apologise." Another sniffle, more tears. "I should have paid more attention…. should have been here… checked more on the cat-sitter…maybe I would have noticed sooner that Henry was hurt." He is full on crying now and Brock can't take it anymore. He pulls him into his arms and holds him, presses kisses to his wet cheeks and his temple, anywhere he can reach really and rubs his back at the same time.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. It's not your fault. Nothing about this is your fault." It doesn't help though, Jose just seems to get more upset and pulls back. At least he's looking at him now.

"But you trusted me with your babies and I fucked up. I don't even know how Henry got hurt. And then they kept talking about the risks of the anaesthesia and all. And I couldn't reach you…God, what if he had died? I would have killed your cat. I'm sorry I'm such a fuck up."

"Jo, please…" Brock doesn't really know what to do. He seems completely inconsolable and is so full of guilt for something that wasn't his fault. "Listen: No one knows how Henry hurt himself, not even the vet. He might have scratched himself the wrong way, fought with Apollo, got stung by a bee… who knows. But he's fine. You took care of him. You even stayed with him. It's not your fault. You did nothing wrong." He tells him, before lying back down and holding the duvet up. "Come here, boo," he requests and is glad when Jose climbs in beside him and lets himself be pulled in his arms again.

"Sorry for crying, I know you hate it," he says after a while of quiet sniffles while he calms down. "Haven't got much better at bottling up that shit."

"Stop apologising, papi." He presses his lips to his forehead. Then to his damp cheeks, his nose and finally to his lips. He can taste the salty tears there and kisses them away. They exchange pecks and kisses for a while, but there's no heat in them, only comfort and tenderness. The only sounds in the room are the smacking noises of their lips.

"Am I still allowed to watch them when you're gone?" Jose rubs his nose and forehead against Brock's shirt like he's a cat himself.

"What do you think? They probably love you more than me at this point," Brock jokes and switches the light off.

"Not true. They miss you when you're gone." His lips flutter against his throat.

"They miss you when you're gone." He presses a kiss against his hair.

"We both have to stay then, so the kids are happy."

"Sounds like a good idea," Brock smiles.

"How long can you really stay?" Back to reality it is.

"I have to leave again tomorrow evening, if Henry's ok. Probably even if he's not. Production can't wait much longer," he sighs deeply and is surprised when Jose kisses him this time. It gets a bit more heated, but not much, and then turns into sleepy, sloppy kisses. It doesn't take too long and they're both asleep with Jose's head on Brock's chest, arms wrapped around each other, snoring in sync.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I truly hope no one is crying this time. Y'all are making me self-conscious with all the tears!


	8. Chapter 8

**9.**

The next morning Jose wakes up with a slight headache. He knows it might be either from the tension or from all the crying the day before, but for now he doesn't care. Because Brock is still in bed with him, spooning him from behind with an arm thrown over his middle. After none of their hookups since the breakup have they ever spent a whole night sleeping in the same bed. This time they spent the whole night together and nothing happened except for some kisses. Still, Jose wouldn't change a thing.

Except for the whole reason why Brock has come home for a short visit. Even though he believes now that Brock thinks he's not responsible and doesn't trust him any less with his precious babies, part of him still wonders what he could have done differently to prevent Henry from getting hurt.

"Stop worrying," Brock's sleepy voice brings him out of his head and he smiles about getting caught. A warm hand slips underneath his shirt and wanders up, fingers tickling against his skin and finally comes to rest over his chest and the edge of his tattoo. Brock's hand seemed to be glued to this spot from the moment of their first kiss until their last fight as a couple. It's nice to have it back there.

"Good morning! Touching the lucky cat again?!" he speaks softly into the dark without moving.

"Mmmmh morning… can feel your heartbeat there. S'nice." After years of wondering about it, he finally has the explanation for Brock's fascination with that spot of his body. He's aware that Brock must be able to feel his heartbeat picking up speed after this comment. The fucker presses a kiss to the side of his neck, making his pulse even faster. Jose can feel him smile against his skin, his morning stubble slightly scratchy before he gently bites the same spot.

"Stop teasing me, asshole." He elbows him softly in the stomach and both laugh.

"Fine." Brock finally sighs, untangles from him and sits up to check his phone and switches the lights on. "We should probably get up and have breakfast. It's already past eleven."

"We have to go out for breakfast. We don't even have milk in the house, because I went from the airport to here and straight to the vet clinic."

"Urgh, then I have to shower and shave before," Brock flops back down on the bed and looks up to the ceiling, absolutely unenthusiastic about leaving the house - or the bed.

"You don't have to shave." Jose sits up and touches Brock's cheek with his index finger and pokes him a bit, just because he can.

"Right, no drag today," he remembers.

"So? Shower, breakfast, vet's?"

"You wanna go to the clinic today?" Brock looks surprised.

"We have to visit Henry during the visitating hours! I don't want him to be the only poor kitty cat who is all alone while all the other sicko bitches get hugs and kisses and treats from their mommies and daddies. We can't do that to him! He'll be the loser who'll get beat up by the others during lunch break, and that's against the animals rights convention, if you ask me. We might even get into trouble with PETA," Jose pokes Brock's stomach as he speaks to emphasise his words.

"You do know that there are no visiting hours and lunch breaks for the pets at a vet clinic, right?" The smirk on his face is more amused than it should be, judging by the fact that it's his cat at the clinic.

"That don't matter bitch! We visiting the baby and if I have to break in like Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible."

Brock is full on laughing now. "Fine, we're visiting Henry. But first shower and breakfast."

"And Riley!"

"Riley?"

"Yeah, he wants to see his best cat buddy. He misses his bro'."

"Jose…" His name sounds like a sigh on Brock's lips, but not the good kind.

"Jason needs to leave in the afternoon and I was supposed to pick him up last night," he reveals the real reason and leaves the bullshit aside for a second.

"Fine: Shower, breakfast, Riley, vet. Anything else?" Brock sits up.

"Well, now that you're actually here and asking, mama: Your new furniture has arrived over the last weeks and beside the couch, the couch table and this one shelf, I have no fucking idea where any of that shit goes. It's kind of cluttering up the garage and the house. If I stumble over one more box, I'll go all Miley wrecking ball on it." He knows he sounds like a nagging wife, but he can't help it. The chaos around the house with furniture boxes everywhere is driving him crazy. His head is already a jumbled chaos, therefor he needs order around him.

"I'll label them later as long as we don't have to assemble them today."

"Deal?" Jose nods and holds his hand out to shake. He is glad when Brock doesn't accept the handshake and kisses him instead.

"Deal."

***

"I'm really sorry, but we really cannot let you back there," the nurse tells him again and Brock feels a bit frustrated. He's been trying to get the older nurse let him see Henry, while Jose has been talking a very quick walk with Riley. He isn't successful though. Not all the flirting and charm makes her budge. Jose is going to be so disappointed, Brock knows. Of course, he'd like to see Henry as well, but he's had enough pets in his life to know the regulations at the vet's clinics. Explaining to Jose and making him accept them, well, that's a totally different kind of ball game.

"Hey, we're here now. And?" Jose shows up with Riley and joins him at the reception counter.

"They can't let us see Henry. Clinic rules. He's doing fine though." Jose wrinkles his forehead and then turns his attention to the elderly vet's assistant, Brock has been discussing this with for the last ten minutes.

"Hey, there Nicole, I'm Jose," he says after checking her name tag and holds out his hand. Brock is waiting for the charming smile to appear on his face, but Jose stays serious. "Look, I know you kinda got them rules and shit against accepting gifts and all, but we brought some macarons for all of y'all, as a little thank you for helping Henry and taking such good care of him." That's when Brock notices the box Jose is holding. Where did that come from? He hands it over to the surprised nurse.

"Oh, thank you, darling. That's very sweet of you," she accepts the gift.

"You welcome," Ah, there is the smile. Brock leans with one arm against the counter so he can watch the spectacle more comfortably. " You know, Henry means so much to all of us. But poor little Riley here really misses his best buddy." He's walked around to the side of the counter where the door is and lets her take a look at Riley, the dog who resembles his owner in the way that he always looks like a puppy, no matter how old he gets. "Riley, give Miss Nicole some kisses." And of course the dog does just that, showing off what he learned at the doggy school.

"Look," Jose digs out his cellphone and shows Nicole something on the screen. "Aren't they real cute together? They always sleep like this, all cuddled up on one blanket. You really don't think we could see Henry for just a short little minute? For Riley?" Now Jose gives her the same puppy eyes. Brock bites his cheek hard so he doesn't start laughing. Jose is giving the performance of his life and he gets the feeling that he himself has been played like this quite a couple of times.

"Fine, ok, just wait a moment and I'll go with you," she finally agrees and Jose's smile is back. Brock waits until Nicole has vanished behind a door, before he starts laughing.

"I didn't know you were such a cunning little shit! You totally played that poor woman."

"Bitch, I don't play. Just a little bit of bribing, and a little bit of Vanjie charm, little bit of butter and flour, and there we go. Watch and learn, motherfucker, watch and learn." He winks at Brock and smiles proudly. At this moment it doesn't matter that they're standing in a vet's clinic surrounded by all kinds of strangers. He simply pulls Jose close by the ends of his furry jacket and gives him a kiss right on his smiling mouth.

***

"I can't believe it took us three hours to assemble this fucking bed-frame!" Brock groans as they walk up the stairs back to the living room.

"I told you it was heavy as fuck, but you didn't believe me," Jose points out - and rightfully so. When they came back he mentioned that he had already taken down his bed and tried to assemble the new one, but failed. Therefor, he has been sleeping on a mattress on the floor ever since. Of course, Brock thought he could be all manly and get it done in a couple of minutes. Wrong!

"Didn't I say I don't want to assemble furniture today?" Brock keeps complaining and sits down on the new, very comfortable couch, completely ignoring the fact that no one told him to try his luck with the bed. He started the madness himself.

"Stop whining, bitch! I'm the one who has been living in this chaos, while you spent your time all comfy in Toronto," Jose points out, more joking than serious and wants to sit down beside Brock, when he stops him and guides him to sit in his lap instead. Jose surely isn't complaining about the move and wiggles around a bit to find a comfortable position as he leans sideways against him.

"Hi, papi," Brock's voice is all quiet and his look intense all of a sudden. "I missed you while I was 'all comfy in Toronto'." This admission is yet another surprise, just like all the kisses and touches since Brock has come back. Sure, they hooked up before he left, but their relationship is still very much undefined. He kissed him in bed in the morning, held his hand while they drove around, kissed him in public, joked and flirted with him while they were assembling the bed and now here they are, on the couch together just like the last time. Well, different couch, but same situation.

"Missed you, too," he admits and feels hot flashes run through his body. The look in Brock's eyes has become scorching, yet the kiss he gives him is soft.

He pulls back with a loud smacking noise before he speaks again. "I thought maybe you were angry about me leaving so suddenly. You weren't texting or calling anymore." Jose is positively stunned by this.

"Didn't want to annoy you with texting and calling all the time when you have to work," he confesses his reason behind it, without going into detail why he felt the need to give Brock some more space.

"Please, do annoy me." Brock starts nibbling on the side of his neck and makes him gasp. "I've gotten used to it over the last couple of months." Jose is aware that this is the perfect opening for the talk they need to have, but he decides that kissing him is a much better idea for now. So he tips Brock's face up to his and crushes their mouths together. His kisses match the heat in Brock's eyes from before; it's all tongues, teeth, groans and heavy breathing. Jose ends up straddling him and feels him grow hard beneath him, as he grinds into him, while they're both still fully dressed.

At some point Brock's hands wander into his pants and squeeze his ass, push his shorts down.

"I am not prepped, babe," he tells him and could slap himself for not simply disappearing for a while, while they were assembling his stupid bed. "Give me half an hour," he adds and tries to get up.

"No, stay. We don't need to…" Brock doesn't finish his sentence and kisses him instead. Jose knows what he means anyway. He takes his time unbuttoning Brock's shirt and greets every bit of exposed skin with his lips. The shirt goes, then his own is pulled over his head and Brock leaves a hickey just far enough down on his chest, so it won't be visible when he's in drag. He might need to wear more T-shirts as boy clothes instead of the revealing tops he usually wears. Then again, who gives a fuck if he has a hickey?

"Brock?" he stops him when Brock wants to lay him down on his back. He laughs when he sees the absolute unnerved look he gives him about being stopped again. "I know this is your couch, boo, but I think maybe you want to avoid cum stains this time. Towel or bed?" the neat freak in him points out, but he makes up for it by giving him his most charming smile and bats his eyelashes.

"Knew your were playing me with that smile, papi" Brock chuckles and helps him off the couch.

"Took you long enough to figure that one out, toes!" He smirks cockily, but shrieks a second later, when Brock slaps his naked butt. "Bitch! Watch it! Or I'm gonna whoop _your_ ass and not in the fifty shades of grey sexy way!" The banter goes on as they make their way to Brock's bedroom, but it doesn't ruin the mood at all.

***

"Did they say something, how long he gonna have to wear the collar thingy?"

"About a week. Hope he'll keep it on this time. Last time he had to wear one, he managed to get out of it at least once a day or got stuck somewhere with it," Brock laughs at the memory and has to wipe some sauce away that dripped onto his chin and onto the table.

"Ok, then Imma talk to Jason so he cancels my gig in Phoenix on Monday, then I'll be home as long as he has to wear it," Jose decides and reaches behind him to grab his phone.

"You can't just cancel your gigs because my cat is sick. I should be the one to make adjustments in my schedule."

"Girl, you adjusting means canceling shooting a tv show and losing a shitload of money, maybe even the contract for next time. For me it's one club gig," Jose argues. "I'm not too crazy about a six hour road trip back and forth anyway." He sends the text message and resumes eating his dinner.

"Oh, you're not staying there for the night?"

"No, I'm sick of hotels. They always smell weird and the beds are either too soft or too hard, A/C too cold or warm. It ain't ever right, you know?"

"Why do you think I'm staying in my old room at my parents' when it makes absolutely no sense commute wise?" Brock knows exactly what he means. There's a certain wariness that comes with being on the road all the time. Other people take vacations and leave their home to relax. All he wants to do is lock himself into his own house for a couple of weeks and not leave under any circumstances. Preferably with Jose right there at the same time.

"Aw, really? That's cute, babe. All your posters still up on the wall, stuffed animals on the bed, porn still hidden in the sock drawer?" he teases him with a smile.

"I was never allowed to have any posters up on the wall. All you'll find is my favourite bible verses," he lets him know with a chuckle.

"Still cute," Jose shrugs and looks at him in a way that lets him know he'll find everything cute at this point. "Send me a picture."

"Of my old room or the bible verses?" He's done with his burger and fries and balls the napkin up, so he can throw it all out.

"Your old room, the bible verses… the porn…you in that room…. on the bed… naked." The mischief is back in Jose's eyes.

"No can do, boo. I betcha my dad would walk in right at the exact moment. And that thought scares the shit out of me, even now." They both have to laugh.

"So, I'll be here until the 14th, then you come back on the 17th, right?" Jose is back to talking schedules as he finishes his dinner.

"Right, I think mid-afternoon, if there are no delays," he confirms and starts cleaning up the wrappers and leftovers of their ordered food.

"Ok, I'll let Lisa know and see what I'll do with Riley. I thought I could take him with me, but the hotel we booked in Vegas doesn't allow pets and Jason's touring with another queen."

"If you find a solution for three days, I can take him from the 17th until you get back," Brock offers. It's only logical and he thinks it's odd they even have to talk about it. But when he turns around the look on Jose's face gives him pause, because he doesn't look convinced. "What? Don't think I can look after your dog?"

"'Course you can. It's just….that's not part of the agreement. Technically, I shouldn't even be here right now, because you're back," Jose points out.

Brock is taken aback. Why is Jose still so set on the stupid agreement even with what's happening between them? They just spent the last hours in bed together sucking each other off, making each other cum, joking around and laughing; and here he is protesting him dog-sitting. It simply doesn't make any sense!

"I think we should maybe talk about the agreement and re-negotiate some things." He sounds harsher than intended even to his own ears.

"Ok." Jose nods and seems to deflate in front of his eyes, like a balloon when picked with a needle.

"But not now. We have to leave for the airport," Brock ends the discussion. "And I'll watch Riley, ok?" he softens his tone and gives Jose's hand a squeeze, hoping for a ceasefire. He really has to leave and this is not a good time to start a fight or what is going to be at the very least a heated discussion, he can just tell.

The drive to the airport is quiet as Brock drives the car and keeps his right hand linked with Jose's. He only has his duffle bag with him, the rest of his luggage still in Toronto, but he doesn't want to just switch seats with Jose and leave. Therefor he parks the car in the garage and makes him get out with him.

"Let me know when you get there," Jose finally addresses him again, after he's checked in and has his boarding pass.

"And you keep me updated about Henry and everything else."

"Sure. See you in March, toes," Jose replies and puckers his lips in a familiar request, that Brock hasn't seen in what feels like an eternity. He fulfils it gladly. He pecks his lips, then pulls him closer, not satisfied yet. Brock hugs him tightly, uses the opportunity to breathe him in one last time and kisses him again, before he pulls back. He misses him already.

"See you then," he says and leaves with another kiss and a heavy heart to go through security.

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am already preparing myself for tears and complaints...


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll finally find out who the story gets its name from ;)

**10.**

It really shouldn't be this hard to find a birthday present for Brock, since they've known each other for years, but it is. Jose has absolutely no idea what to get him.

For the last ten days, whenever he walks through a mall in Vegas, he checks the windows, enters stores and wanders around aimlessly to find inspiration, unsuccessfully. It's hard because he wants it to be personal, but not too much. He wants to show him he cares, but not too much. He wants to let him know he loves him, but without spelling it out.

Brock is not as demanding as he is when it comes to gifts. Jose knows he would be fine with a gift card, a bouquet of flowers or a jumbo packet of the disgusting chips he likes. It's not what he wants to give him though. He doesn't know what they are and he can't tell what they are going to be, but heknows with certainty what he wants them to become. And the birthday gift better not ruins his chances.

His Vegas stint is nearly over when he passes a jewellery shop and suddenly knows what he is going to get him: A Tag Heuer watch with a brown leather strap. Brock has been complaining for a while about the old watch he lost, but has never replaced it. The one Jose choses for him is not one he would wear, because it's not bling-y enough, but it suits Brock and is expensive enough to satisfy his need to make it special.

He wants to get it engraved with every fibre of his being, but doesn't dare. The words 'stifled','shackled' and 'controlled' branded into his brain, since Brock has yelled them at him during their last fight as a couple. Brock was the one to give him a necklace with his nickname to wear around his neck, yet, he is the one who would never wear Jose's name anywhere on his body, not even on a T-shirt.

He makes them wrap the watch as a gift so he can't change his mind and is finally ready to go home, back to L.A. and back to the house he still has no idea how much longer he is welcome to. He hasn't forgotten that Brock wants to re-negotiate their agreement, but isn't sure what he meant when he said it. The annoyed tone of his voice promised nothing good, but his insistence to watch Riley and the way he said goodbye tells a different story. Brock is sending out so many mixed signals that Jose spends nights lying awake and trying to decipher them: without success. He is very sure, however, that the second they get back together Brock will make him move out. Because being a couple and living together, is so far away from Brock's comfort zone, he will probably even have to move at least four postcodes away, so his skittish lover won't panic. He would do it though - he wouldn't like it one bit, but he would do it - so he could have Brock back as his partner.

He arrives back in L.A. on the morning of Brock's birthday and is happy when he picks him up at the airport, Riley in tow. They hug hello and catch up as they wait for his luggage to arrive, then get breakfast and drive home.

They barely make it into the hallway before they are all over each other. Jose doesn't even have time to check on the cats, before they stumble into bed and spend the rest of the morning there, making up for the last weeks apart.

"We have to get up," Brock tells him after checking the time on his phone. "Steve will be here in an hour and we still have to get your stuff out of the guest room." They have texted about it and agreed that Jose will just move upstairs as long as Steve will stay in the guest-room. Jose isn't really enthusiastic about getting his things out of the guest-room, just to carry them all back downstairs once they are alone again. Therefor he groans, but then moves off of Brock and gets out of bed.

"And change the sheets and shower."

"Get the snacks."

"Greet the caterer."

"Lock up the cats."

"Get ready for my gig."

"Fuck, I forgot about that," Brock curses and finally gets out of bed as well. "When will you be back?"

"Not too late. It's a sweet sixteen party for some rich kid. I think stage time is seven. Half an hour show, some pics and smalltalk, drive back. Let's say nine-ish?"

"That's not too bad." Brock puts on underwear and leans towards him for a kiss. One kiss become two, then more and only when Jose tries to take the briefs off again, does he stop him. "We don't have time. If we don't want Steve walking in on us, we should stop and get ready." Brock's words aren't spoken with much conviction, but Jose gets it. It also reminds him that he still hasn't given Brock his present.

"Wait here, I'm gonna get your present real quick," he tells him, then hurries downstairs, gets the package out of his backpack and hurries back up.

"Blue or white?" Brock asks and holds up two shirts when he is back in his bedroom.

"White," he decides and hands him the wrapped gift. He watches him closely and smiles when he sees in Brock's eyes that he likes the watch he picked out for him.

"This is amazing. Thank you!" Carefully he takes the watch out of the gift box and takes a closer look, then turns it over. Jose thinks there is a flicker of disappointment there, when there isn't any engraving at the back, but he can't be sure, because it's gone just as quickly. "I love it," Brock adds and pulls Jose close again, kissing him once more.

"If you don't want us to continue this in the shower, you better let me go now, toes." He laughs about the fact that Brock doesn't seem to get enough of him. It feels good being wanted like this.

"Shouldn't have invited all the guests. Then we could have just stayed in bed all day," he pouts a bit and Jose finds it adorable.

"Fucking all day still wouldn't get me out of my gig," he points out with another peck and prances towards the door.

"Hey, where you going?" Brock calls out after him.

"Shower."

"I have one here, we can shower together!" He really is a needy and whiny little bitch today and Jose loves it, but would never tell him that, of course.

"Yeah, sure, boo. 'Cause that would work. Shower, get dressed and change the sheets! I'll meet your birthday boy ass downstairs when you done." He chuckles when he can hear Brock grumbling in his bedroom as he makes his way downstairs to shower and then clear out the room, so Steve can move in later.

***

While Jose gets ready for his gig, Steve and Brock get the house ready for the party and catch up. He is still waiting for some sly comment on Steve's part about the sleeping arrangements, but so far he has been suspiciously silent on the topic.

Jose leaves before the first guests arrive and makes sure once again that Riley being at the house during the party won't be a problem. Brock doesn't mind the dog at all. Watching him while Jose was in Vegas was nice and made him feel a bit better when he missed Jose. He still doesn't understand why Jose always worries about Riley being too much or being in the way, when this is Riley's home now as much as it is the cats'.

They still haven't talked about anything yet. It's a talk Brock wants to have in person, when they have the time to disagree and fight, find middle ground and make up, if necessary. Defining a relationship and analysing what went wrong the last time can't be done between packing and unpacking suitcases and hurrying back and forth from the airport.

Even now that Jose is back in L.A. for the next two weeks, he has to leave for Bangkok the day after tomorrow. It'll be another four weeks until they will be back home at the same time, and Brock fears their talk will have to wait until then. All he can do in the meantime is revel in Jose's presence, make up for the time apart and hope that he will agree that what they have is more than a friends with benefits situation. Brock doesn't know what he'll do, if Jose doesn't see it that way.

It's nearly ten and the party is in full swing when Brock finally sees the front-door open and Jose walks in. He's been checking his new watch every couple of minutes since half past eight and was already contemplating texting him. Jose's wearing sweats and a T-shirt and still has all the make-up on. He greets friends he knows, as he makes his way towards Brock, who just watches him happily.

"Hey papi," he greets him with a smile and follows the invitation of the puckered lips to kiss him hello.

"Hey. Sorry I'm late. These teenage fuckers wouldn't let me leave. Let me just shower real quick and take my mug off and I'll be back, k?" Jose asks him, still standing close but not touching him in any way.

"Sure. I saved you some of the vegetarian food. It's in the fridge," he replies and strokes a strand of hair behind Jose's ear, when it keeps falling in his eyes.

"Thanks, toes," Jose replies, scores himself another kiss and then hurries through the living room and up the stairs to the bedroom.

"Holy shit!" Brock is startled by Nina's exclamation and finds her standing right next to him, watching Jose disappear upstairs with wide-eyes and a shit-eating smile. "What the fuck is going on here?" The volume is way too loud and a couple of people turn in their direction. Brock knows he has to act, before this will turn into the Branjie roast.

"Come with me," he tugs on her arm and pulls her in direction of the stairs to the guest bedroom.

"Oh, this is gonna be good. I'm coming as well," Steve appears on his other side, a large grin on his face, and Brock knows he's screwed.

He has barely closed the bedroom door behind the three of them, when Nina can't contain herself anymore. "Jose has a key to your house and showers in your room? Or does my little eye deceive me? Since when are you two living together?"

"Jose moved into the guest-bedroom in October to stay here when I'm gone. He's looking after the cats and the house." It's not a lie, right?

"Do you kiss all your cat-sitters on the mouth?"

"Fine, we might be hooking up as well when we're both here… sometimes," he admits. "But we're not back together."

"Wait, wait, wait: What?" Nina is grinning from ear to ear and looks intrigued.

"It's… complicated," he sighs and sits down on the bed, then looks up at his best friend, hoping he will help him out since he knows the whole story.

"Hey, don't look at me. I've known about this for months and I still don't get it."

"The actual agreement is what I just told you: When I am not here, Jose looks after the cats and the house and can stay in the guest-room. But the last couple of times we were here together, we ended up fucking around. I know I wanna try again, but I don't really know if I can do relationships. And I have no idea what Jose wants. One minute we're all over each other and the next he refuses to let me watch Riley, because it's against the actual agreement," it spills out of him.

"So you aren't in contact at all when you're not both here?" Nina asks with a strange glint in her eyes.

"No, we are, of course. We text and talk on the phone all the time. There are things to organise about the house, the pets, the new furniture…"

"Just to be clear: You keep in contact all the time while you're apart, you live together, share responsibilities for a house and the pets and fuck each other silly. Which part of that screams 'no relationship'?"

"Andrew, we haven't talked about shit. I have no clue what he wants or feels. And even if we both agree that we want to be back together, it doesn't mean that we can make it work. The last time… it was too much, all of it. Jose wanted to be together twenty-four-seven, needed to know where I was every minute of every freakin' day and expected me to keep track of his whereabouts the same way. He wants romance and exclusivity, absolutely no flirting with anyone else…" he remembers the things that made him itchy the last time like it was yesterday. He is sure of his love for Jose, but he still fears that too many things are stacked against them. Maybe they are just not compatible?

"When we talked after my birthday party you admitted that you hadn't been with anyone else since way before your hook-up in New York. How many guys have you been with since then, apart from Vanjie?"

"Are you crazy? No one but Jose! I don't want to get tested for STDs all the time." He huffs. What kind of question is that?

"Where is Jose going to be tomorrow?" Steve asks and the question is even odder.

"Here, where else would he be? He has an appointment for a hair cut at one, but otherwise he's here."

"How about March 26th?"

"Steve, what the actual fuck?"

"Just humour me."

"I'll be back from Bangkok and he should be in New York, I think." Brock says after thinking about it for a second.

"Do you know what I do these days when I can't get a hold of you and need information?" his best friend continues after exchanging an amused look with Nina. "I call Jose," he answers his own question.

"Why?" Brock can't believe this.

"Because you two are up in each other's shit so much with your constant texting and phone calls, that he knows your diary better than I do most of the times. And the same goes for you. You don't even realise that you keep track of it, because you just do."

"So what? We need to make arrangements for the pets."

"Why did you come home in February?" the interrogation continues.

"Henry was sick!"

"Henry was already out of surgery when you booked your flight."

"Jose was freaking out and I couldn't just leave him with my sick cat."

"Aha!"

"What aha?" they both look at him like he has lost his mind, while he's feeling more and more anxious and confused. What do they want from him?

"For they know not what they do…" Nina mutters loud enough so he still hears her, but continues before he can say anything in reply. "Brock, you know I love you, but you are a clueless fool. Just because you two idiots haven't exchanged the 'Do you want to be my boyfriend?- Yes, no, maybe' letters, doesn't mean that you are not in a relationship. Because, honey, you are." Nina finally enlightens him. His first reaction is that he wants to protest and argue, but then he has to admit that she kind of has a point.

"You two love each other and it's a beautiful thing to watch. Yes, you should talk and see where it needs fine-tuning and what you both want. But you've been living together since October and so far I don't see you running in the other direction to find your freedom. Everything you say made you run the last time, is already in place this time. And you didn't even notice, because you're so comfortable." Steve is more corny than he usually is. "And so is Jose. Or has he flown into a jealous rage yet when you are apart?"

"I think he's still looking for an apartment," he comes up with a last protest.

"Then tell him to stop looking and stay here. Knowing Vanjie that's all he's waiting for," Nina replies with a duh-expression.

"He's already moved to your bedroom for now. Just keep him there," Steve winks at him.

"Ah, there you are, bitches and birthday boy. We been looking for you," Jose bursts into the room jut then and the door hits the wall. His hair is still damp and pulled up in a little bun on top of his head and he smells like he has bathed in cologne - which is the normal amount for him whenever he gets out of the shower. "They starting beer pong with tequila and we need our good Judy Nina for that!" he smiles, unaware of what kind of revelation he has just walked into.

"Oh, I love beer pong!" Nina exclaims and hurries out of the room, followed closely by Steve.

"You ok, boo?" Jose asks him when he needs a second to get up. He wraps his arms around his waist and looks up at him, a worried look on his face.

"Yes," he says and exhales loudly. With Jose's arms around him and his body pressed against him he really is okay. More than that. He cups his cheek and kisses him, tries to tell him with the kiss what he can't say with his words. "Just don't leave me alone again with Nina tonight. She saw you unlocking the door with your key earlier and the reading challenge is nothing compared to what I just went through here," he jokes and pecks Jose's lips again.

"Poor toes, being the victim of big bad Nina," Jose giggles as they leave the downstairs bedroom arm in arm. "Want me to whoop her ass? 'Cause I will, for you," he promises and looks so cute it makes Brock's heart jump.

"No, just stay by my side," he laughs and imagines Vanjie trying to fight Nina. David against Goliath would have nothing on them.

"That I can do." Jose nods, gives him another kiss and really stays by his side all night.

***

Riley wakes Brock up the next day, still used to him being the one to walk him in the mornings. He makes sure not to disturb Jose, who sleeps like a baby, wrapped so tightly in the duvet one can barely see him. He can't help himself and presses his lips gently against the top of his head and smiles at the scene, before he gets out of bed. This is exactly what he wants to wake up to every morning, simply without the headache he has.

They both got pretty wasted last night and Brock's first stop after throwing on some clothes is the medicine cabinet where he gets aspirin for both him and Jose. He swallows two and places the other two on the bedside table with a glass of water.

It was a great night though. Jose by his side all evening, laughing as he made him try different drinking games. He is sure that basically everyone at the party picked up at one point or another that there is something going on between them again, because they weren't subtle at all. Jose is back to puckering his lips each time he wants a kiss and Brock obliges without thinking about it, kissing him even when there is no request for it, simply because he wants to. Dancing together turned to grinding against each other after trying to limbo. Talking to friends on the couch was done with Jose sitting on his lap, arms wrapped around his waist. And they weren't exactly quiet in their private celebrations in his bedroom after the guests were gone, except for Steve.

While out with Riley he stops to pick up breakfast for all of them. The fresh air and exercise helps with his headache and by the time he arrives back home he feels halfway decent again.

"Coffee?" Steve, who is also up by now and standing in the kitchen, asks when he walks in.

"Yes, thanks. I brought the rest. Pancakes, bacon, fruits, juice, scrambled eggs and croissants." They work quietly and in sync as they prepare coffee and put everything on plates and in bowls, before they sit down at the breakfast bar. "Jose still asleep?" he asks, wondering if he should wake him up.

"I think I heard something earlier, but it could have been the cats," Steve shrugs.

"Ok, if you're not sure it must have been the cats. Because if there's one thing Jose is not, it's quiet." Brock laughs.

"Tell me about it. I was here last night." Steve's raised eyebrows leave no doubt which part of the night he's talking about.

"Fuck…sorry," he simply laughs and is a bit embarrassed, but not too much.

"I guess you didn't talk anymore last night," Steve chuckles as well.

"Not really. We were both pretty wasted. "

"I nearly peed my pants when Jose decided you need wallpaper with zebra stripes for the garage."

"Was that before our after the vodka?"

"I think after. It was between you running around in that ridiculous cat apron and him and Nina singing Lion king songs."

"I think I'm starting to remember." The finer points of the madness from the night before are slowly coming back to him. "He has a point though about this place needing a spruce. I had the furniture assembled at some point, because both me and Jo suck at it, but most rooms still need some new colour."

"There's no hurry. You can do one room after the other."

"True. Maybe I'll have someone over when I get back from Bangkok. I could have the living room and kitchen done while Jose is in New York, so he won't bitch about the chaos."

"They could then do your bedroom when you're back in Toronto." They both smile at each other, because they can hear Jose coming down the stairs and of course he is far from quiet.

"Yeah, and they could finish with the guest-bedroom and bath once Jose's moved out of there permanently," Brock finishes their plan and takes another sip of his coffee before he smiles at the man in question, when he arrives downstairs, but does not come any closer. He wears one of Brock's T-shirts and grey sweatpants and looks completely rumpled and adorable as he leans against the doorway. "Good morning! Coffee, boo?" he asks him, when he simply keeps staring at them.

"Uhm, no, no. I'm gonna walk Riley," Jose replies, grabs the leash off the hook by the door, slips in his adidas slippers and is out the door with Riley before Brock can inform him, that he's already walked the dog.

***

Jose wanders aimlessly around the streets of the neighbourhood with Riley. When he realises he still holds his phone in hand he uses the app to pay for some coffee at Starbucks, but skips the food. It starts to drizzle at some point, but he keeps walking. Right now any place is better than being back at the house with Brock and Steve, even out on the streets in the rain.

His phone starts vibrating and he sees that Brock is calling him and ignores it. Jose's suddenly back in his old neighbourhood and makes a decision; he calls Jason.

"Hey, what's up?" his manager and friend greets him.

"I just wanted to know if there are any news about a new apartment for me?" he asks.

"Uh, to be honest I've stopped looking a while ago. You turned down the last couple of options and then didn't say anything anymore." Jason sounds really surprised.

"Sorry, just, uhm, start looking again, please. Even if it's just temporary. I'll take anything. I just… I just really need to leave where I'm at, ok?" he asks.

"You're ok?" Now Jason sounds worried.

"No…yes… I just… I'll be fine, I promise," he decides not to get into it for now.

"Ok, I'll get right back to it," Jason promises and they hang up.

Silky lets him in in his underwear and barely awake, after Jose nearly kicks the door in.

Brock has called three more times by the time he's cried his eyes out on Silky's couch and spilled everything about his heartache and his confusion. How can Brock be incredibly sweet one-second, make love to him until they both see stars, and then do this? It hurts like a motherfucker and Jose is so sick of being pushed and pulled in whatever direction it pleases Brock, whenever he needs his beloved freedom.

"He one complicated ho'," Silky shrugs. "What are you gonna do now?"

"He'll be gone tomorrow. When he gets back, I be off to New York. If I'm lucky Jason has found a place by the time I get back?" he replies and sniffs one last time and cuddles Riley closer. He's also done crying over Brock.

"You wanna stay here tonight?" Silky offers. Jose nods.

'I'm at Silks'. Will stay here tonight. Prbl won't be back before you leave. Have a nice trip," he texts Brock and turns his phone off.

**TBC**


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me just say thank you for all the nice and also enraged comments on the last chapter. It really makes me happy to hear your thoughts and get an idea what you felt when you read what I wrote.
> 
> I decided to update again today, because I've had a day off and I've kept changing bits and pieces here and there for this chapter. And it needs to stop. Therefor I post it now and it's out of my hands.

**11.**

Brock has always believed in his intuition and trusting his gut, and in hindsight he should have done exactly that when Jose vanished the day after his birthday party. He got worried when he didn't return after a couple of minutes. Got more worried when he tried calling him and he didn't pick up his phone. By the time he got the text message from Jose about him not coming home, Steve was mocking him for being so upset, but Brock couldn't find the humour in it. He knew something was off and Jose didn't just accidentally run into Silky and decided to stay there. Yet, when he wanted to go after him and find out what was wrong he let Steve talk him out of it.

The sinking feeling of doom hasn't left his stomach since then.

They still text, but Jose's replies are cordial at best, indifferent most times. Brock sends him pictures of Bangkok and getsa palm tree smilie back.He tries calling him and it goes straight to voicemail. He tells him he misses him in a text, after the same voice mail gets ignored and Jose replies with a picture of the cats and nothing else.

The only times he gets decent replies is when they talk about their schedules. 'Plane will land at ten pm' is countered with 'Mine leaves at five pm. Riley will stay with Jason'.

He's barely able to concentrate on the interesting city around him and all the people he meets, because Jose's strange behaviour is eating away at him.

'Have I done something to upset you, boo?' He finally texts him, because maybe he did something while he was drunk that he can't remember. He doesn't think he has any blackouts about the night of his birthday, because he remembers everything they did in the bedroom in vivid detail, but who knows? He'd hate it, if he upset Jose like that.

'Just busy' comes back, and that really doesn't say much at all.

'Jose please! Talk to me. I'm sorry if I did anything stupid. I didn't meant to upset you in any way.' He knows he's begging, but he can't help it.

'It is what it is. We ok. Agreement still on and everything' Although it might sound positive, Brock is even more convinced now that something is seriously wrong. He is listening to his gut this time.

"I need you to cancel Houston at the end of the month," he tells Steve when he picks up his phone.

"Why? We just confirmed it. You said Jose's back by then and can take of your zoo."

"He's still not talking to me and I need to be home when he gets back from New York. This has been going on for too long. I should have just gone to Silky's that day. I knew it, and I didn't, and now I feel like throwing up all the time because he's not talking to me anymore," he rambles.

"You know you're overreacting, right?"

"Maybe, but I don't give a fuck. I'm not going back to the silent avoidance of each other that we had going for moths before he moved in. He's not some random fuck-buddy for me, even though he acts like it at the moment."

"Ok, fine, I cancel the gig. But you better get this shit sorted out this time, because it's getting really annoying and a hazard for business!" Steve huffs and hangs up. Brock knows he's right. They really have to figure it out. And soon.

***

Jose knows that Brock is watching his live but he doesn't address him. Instead he goes on with his tipsy rambling in the club.

"This my boo, Tyler. Say hi Tyler," he asks one of his dancers, knowing full well that the term of endearment is usually reserved for Brock. Now that he has finally accepted that they won't ever be a couple again, he doesn't see any reason not to use it with others as well.

"Hi, instagram," Tyler waves into the camera.

"We still in New York, kickin' it with the cool kids. Partying the nights away. Dancing with the homies and homos," Jose cackles and takes a second to read the comments on screen. "Yeah, I hurt my knee again. Little accident this time," he replies to one of the question.

"Ain't no accident when you fall over 'cause you so drunk!" Tyler tells the real story and laughs loudly.

"Don't tell the kids that!" Jose laughs drunkenly.

"Why not? As long as I don't tell them you fell face first into your own vomit…"

"You motherfucking asshole!" Jose screeches and pretends to slap his dancer.

"It's the truth, I swear it's the truth!" he vows.

Of course it's the truth and Jose knows that. Ever since Brock left for Bangkok he's done little else than work, party and get drunk. That didn't change when he got to New York. It only has got worse instead, because he doesn't have any responsibilities here. He wants to have fun, forget about the mess that awaits him L.A. and forget about Brock.

He wishes he was able to hook up with someone, but he just… can't. It's not for a lack of opportunity, but something makes him stop. Silky warned him to take it easy and take his time, which is strange advice coming from Silky. He's just not able to bounce back from it as quickly as he hoped and he doesn't want another Matt situation, where he's the one taking advantage of someone else's feelings.

'The cats say hi.' Brock's message shows up on his screen. It's discreet enough so no one will know what has been going on over the last months. He wants to reply that he misses them. Wants to say he misses Brock, so much. Instead he yells "I need another shot. Give me more shots!" and turns off the live.

***

When Brock comes back home from Bangkok he finds that Jose has removed all of his things from his bedroom. Everything is back downstairs in the guest-bedroom. He swallows hard as he looks around and wonders, if he should just grab everything and move it back upstairs. He figures it's a good way to start the first fight though, so he leaves everything where it is.

The last couple of times he came back home, there were also traces of Jose in the shared kitchen, living-room and out by the pool. The floating pink flamingo was constantly in the water, a spare phone charger lying in the kitchen, some books and comic on the living-room table and shoes next to the door. This time he can't find any trace of Jose anywhere, other than the guest-room.

Brock needs it, though. He needs Jose's presence around the house, because otherwise it feels empty.

He decides to finally take care of the empty picture frames. The double frame is reserved for the cats. The large frame is for a family portrait. But the large assortment with twelve individual frames gets filled with pictures of both him and Jose. Some with the cats, some with Riley, some with friends and some alone - it's proof of a life shared, at times as Vanjie and Brooke Lynn, sometimes as Brock and Jose. It also brings Jose back to the house, even if it's just in pictures in frames.

Two days before Jose is supposed to come back he gets a call from Jason, if he can come and pick up Riley. Of course, he agrees. He is glad to have him back and fill part of the void that Jose leaves behind.

"Thank you, for picking him up! I'm sorry it's such short notice," Jason apologises when he gets there.

"I really don't mind. I told Jose I could take him in the first place," he shrugs and cuddles Riley. He's missed him. "Something happened?"

"There's some fuckery going on at one of the club kids tours and I need to take care of it myself."

"New York?"

"Ireland," Jason sighs and Brock is relieved it doesn't seem to have anything to do with Jose. From what he's seen professionalism isn't really on Jose's mind at the moment and the constant hangover he must have can't make for a pleasant experience on tour.

"Sorry to hear that. But I'm happy to see you, Riley. I missed you," he tells the dog and puts the leash into place.

"You gonna see Jose right when he gets back, right?" Jason asks him.

"Yeah sure," he confirms but isn't sure how much Jason knows about their living arrangement. "He'll want to see Riley immediately."

"Ok, because I don't know when I get to talk to him: Can you please tell him that I managed to get him an apartment? It's a bit more expensive than what he wanted and it's just for six months, but he made it sound really urgent. He can move in as soon as he gets back. Here's the contract, address and everything."

Brock feels like Jason just hit him over the head with a sledge hammer as he hands him a large envelope. Jose wants to move out - urgently. He's at a loss for words. He nods anyway and leaves in a daze with Riley.

He has two days to think about what he heard and by the time Jose's plane touches down in L.A. Brock is so angry he can barely see straight.

***

"What are you doing here? Thought you was in Houston," Jose is shocked when he stumbles into the living-room and finds Brock home. It's just what he needs after a five hour flight, being completely hung over and with his knee swollen and hurting.

"Sorry to disappoint. Guess you have to just hide downstairs and avoid me." Brock's tone is pure poison. Jose did not expect that at all.

"What that supposed to mean?" Jose can already feel his blood starting to boil. Why is Brock even here and what gave him the right to talk to him like that?

Brock gets off the couch, picks up a large envelope from the table and basically throws it at him. "Here's the contract for your new apartment. Jason asked me to give it to you, since it was so urgent you got out of here," he spits, his icy tone cuts Jose deep. "When were you gonna tell me about this? Or were you just going to pack your stuff and leave and send me another fucking dumb text? Or not even that? Just run off again?" he keeps yelling. But Jose will not give in to Brock's anger and he will not be intimidated. He was sticking to the agreement and Brock still screwed him over and treated him like dirt!

"What the fuck are _you_ so angry about?" he throws the envelope carelessly onto the couch table, knocking the candle holder over. "You the one who wants me gone. So, just be happy annoying and clingy Jose's gone soon!" He takes a step closer to Brock with every word and stands before him, shaking with rage. "And I don't need to tell you shit, 'cause you don't say shit to me and just talk behind my back. You not fucking loyal at all, you a traitor!" He pushes his chest once, as hard as he can, making Brock sway slightly. He needs an outlet for all the anger that has been bottled up inside of him. Brock is the reason for it, so he has to take it. He's never physically attacked him before during any of their fights, but he's hardly ever felt so blindsided and hurt by him before, not even during their breakup. The feelings weren't as deep back then, the connection not as tight. The fact that Brock has been attacking him since he walked through the door isn't helping either.

"I have no idea what the fuck you are talking about! I've asked you repeatedly what was wrong and get bullshit answers back via texts. If you even reply at all. So who's not loyal here? Who's the traitor?" Brock is yelling now as well and Riley runs off, hiding somewhere to get away from the commotion.

"Don't you dare calling me disloyal, you asshole. You're so full of shit!" he screams and shoves his shoulder even harder. He is so furious he starts tearing up. "You a motherfucking liar!" The tears spill over and he clenches his fists at his side. He is vibrating with fury. One more word from Brock and he's not sure he can walk away. He wants to hurt him as badly as he's hurt him, physically if he has to.

There's silence as they glare at each other, Jose just waiting for Brock to make a wrong move or say a wrong word. He doesn't care anymore about the consequences, he just wants to get the anger out of his system and make Brock suffer in the process."I'm not going to fight you, Jose. Stop." Suddenly Brock's voice is quiet, his eyes soft and his anger seems gone. "Please stop."

***

Brock is as angry as he is hurt and the feelings have been building for days, if not weeks. When they broke up they fought, before they broke up they fought; but he can't remember ever fearing that Jose might actually physically attack him. He's known him for years and he can see that it's a very real possibility this time. He's not scared, even though he maybe should be, because Jose is a lot stronger than he looks and he could hurt him if he wanted to.

Yet, Jose losing control over his anger like this makes him pause and think. There is one reason, and one reason only that makes Jose act like that: He's hurting. And Brock must be the one who is hurting him. He doesn't know why, how or with what, but he has to find out what is going on. Yelling won't solve anything in dealing with emotional hurt and it certainly won't make Jose open up. So he pauses, tries to let go of his own anger for a moment and hopes he can talk Jose down, so they can get to the bottom of it.

"Don't you fucking tell me what to do," Jose says with gritted teeth, but doesn't shove him again, which Brock takes as progress. Brock tries to channel every psychologist and therapist he's ever talked to or seen, because he needs to calm down the man he loves. He just doesn't really know how. Quickly he goes over the words Jose hurled at him, still can't make sense of them, but decides to start there.

"I'm not trying to," he takes a small step back from Jose and sits down on the couch so he is no longer towering over him. Jose remains standing, fists clenched, murder in his eyes, chin quivering, tears running down his face from time to time. "Can we just talk, please? I can see you're angry at me and I know that I must have hurt you somehow without meaning to. But you hurt me, too. It hurt to find out from Jason that you're leaving. You never said a word. I thought you were staying here or we would at least talk about it," he admits and tries to stay as calm as possible.

"You said you want me gone. I ain't no charity case, I don't need you fuckin' tolerating me in your house. So I'll leave." He's still aggressive, but he's talking to him, that's something.

"When did I say I want you out of the house? Jose, I honestly have no fucking idea what you mean. The last I know, we were sleeping together in my room and then suddenly you're gone," he gets upset once again, but sounds as helpless as he feels.

"You said to Steve that you'll renovate the downstairs as soon as I move out. I don't wanna be in the way no more." Brock recalls the morning after his birthday, tries to think of what he said exactly and remembers Jose's expression as he was standing in the doorway. The sinking feeling in his gut is back, but he thinks he knows now what happened.

"God," he sighs, shocked by how much of a communication mess they are. "It's a longer story and involves Nina and Steve and I will gladly tell you all of that later, but the gist of it is, that what I meant back then was : When you finally move out of the guest bedroom and into my own bedroom permanently." Jose is so surprised he unclenches his fists.

"What?" He's still furious, his posture still rigid and stiff.

"Listen, I think we can both agree that we should have talked months ago about us. And we definitely should not postpone that any longer. I'm hurt, angry and honestly exhausted by all of it. I guess, you're hurt and you're so furious you might punch me in the face any second. Can we both please just take a moment to calm down and then talk? Not tomorrow or next week, but today? Please?" Brock is pleading with him. Just the last couple of minutes have drained his energy more than dancing on stage for hours ever could.

"I'll go for a walk with Riley to calm down," Jose mutters and Brock takes it as agreement. When Jose turns around, calls his dog and puts the leash on him, he is reminded of the scene weeks ago when Jose simply left and didn't come back.

"Jose?" he calls and quickly follows him into the hallway.

"Mmh?"

"I just," This is harder than he thought. But he regretted it the last time and he's not going to make the same mistake twice. "I just… I love you. I know we're fighting and it's fucked up to say it now, but I need you to know that before you leave."

"It's real fucked up, you damned idiot," he sniffs and opens the front door. "But I love you too," he mumbles and is gone.

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope the fictional B redeemed himself a bit here. Maybe so did I?


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here comes the talk. 
> 
> This chapter is also nearly double the length of the others, but I didn't wanna cut it, because it'd create an unnecessary cliffhanger. Deal with it ;)

**12.**

"I'm sorry I pushed you," is the first thing Jose says to Brock when he comes back after an hour of walking around L.A. and thinking about what happened and what he wants to say. He's nervous, because he knows this is it, this is the talk that could make or break them. But considering that he thought everything was definitely over and Brock just wants him gone until an hour ago, he's more hopeful than before.

"It's ok," Brock replies. He's sitting on the sofa again and Jose can't be sure, but he thinks he might have been crying, because his eyes are a little red and slightly puffy. Also there's water and coffee on the table now and some apple and melon slices. He's set everything up for a long talk. Hopefully he hid the knives somewhere, Jose thinks, because if his fury earlier is any indication, an actual real talk might make him lose his calm even faster.

"No, it's not. Don't pretend it is. It ain't cute to get in your face like that and push you. Am not proud of it, kinda ashamed actually."

"Ok, how about: I accept your apology?" Brock rephrases.

"Better," he nods. Riley runs off again and Jose sits down on the sofa next to Brock, but at a respectable distance. He wishes he could just hug and kiss Brock and everything would be all right, but reality doesn't work that way, as the last months clearly show. He is still angry and hurt and he needs some answers. He figures Brock feels the same. The 'I love you' earlier helped a lot to him calm down, but love was never their problem. "Soo?" he says and waits, doesn't know where or how to start.

"I googled a bit while you were gone to get some ideas how to do this, because I suck at talking about my feelings," Brock starts and Jose can't help the snort that escapes him.

"Ain't that the truth." The comment earns him an annoyed look from Brock.

"I'm trying here!"

"Sorry, go on."

"What I found is that we could try and talk in turns. One starts and the other isn't allowed to interrupt or comment until he's done. Then the other says his piece. We're also not supposed to raise our voices, or lash out, or generalise."

"Who dat is?" Jose wonders, because he's not really sure he gets it. "Oh sorry, no interrupting," he remembers then and feels stupid for already breaking the rules.

"That's ok, you need to know what you're possibly agreeing to," Brock smiles a bit. "It means like… we can't say stuff like 'You always do this' or 'You never do that', but we have to be specific. 'That day you said that…'," he explains.

"Ah, ok. Got it, got it," Jose nods.

"What else?" Brock wonders and picks up a small piece of paper he seems to have written the rules on. "We're not allowed to insult each other and should try and listen and understand. I think that's mainly it." Jose thinks it's adorable that he did research on this to end their fight and even took notes. He really wants to kiss him or it, but doesn't. "And of course no physical fighting."

"I'm cool with it," he agrees quickly. "You starting, Dr. Phil?" he picks up a slice of melon as he waits for a reply. Brock nods and thinks for a moment how to start.

"I think you know that… I hope you know and believe me that I'm still in love with you. I also hope we agree that it wasn't why we broke up the last time," he looks expectantly at Jose, who is relieved to hear it. He's not alone and Brock doesn't just see him as a friend or annoying roommate. But he is a bit confused because he isn't supposed to interrupt. So he just nods his head. "I've known that I want you back as my boyfriend for a long time, but I didn't know how to make it work. We had these hookups, because I couldn't let you go, but, you know, also didn't really know what else to do. I'm still afraid that we'll end right back up at where it ended the last time, and I can't go through that again. And I know a lot of it was my fault. Also, I'm not sure what you want. I thought we were on track before, but then you first kicked me out of your bed in New York, then got together with Matt -"

"Bitch, I never kicked…" Jose blows up, then remembers the rules. "Sorry," he apologises again, makes a move to lock his mouth and throw away the key. He's trying here.

"I wanted to be happy for you, but I was jealous. I felt horrible when you told me you and Matt had broken up and I was actually happy about it. It's a shady thing to do. And when you agreed to move in here… but it wasn't a ploy to get you back, I swear."

"Ploy?" he dares to ask, because it was ok before.

"A trick. I didn't trick you into living here just so we could get back together or fuck. I hoped that we would become closer again and you would stop shutting me out and ignoring me. It hurt me when I found out that you unfollowed me on social media or when you changed your phone number and didn't even tell me. Until then I thought we were friends at least." Brock stops and takes a deep breath and a sip of water. Jose remembers his finger hovering over the unfollow button and how long it took him to stop checking Brock's social media accounts, even after he did push it. It wasn't healthy for him to watch all the videos, always fearing there would be another guy, or look at pictures and wish that he was there with him. Unfollowing him had been an act of self-preservation.

"We both know what happened next and sometimes it was just timing, but…remember when we spent the afternoon in bed together and then you didn't want me to watch Riley, because it's against the agreement?" Brock goes on and Jose nods. Of course he remembers, how could he forget the moment Brock had suddenly turned icy towards him. Until now he did't understand why.

"Stuff like that really hurt and I didn't understand it, because I thought we were on the same page and wanted to get back together for real. And suddenly you treat me like a room-mate or like you feel like you have to vanish when I'm home. I don't think I did anything to deserve that. I always included you and always made it clear I want you around. I mean, we had such an amazing time furniture shopping and…fuck." Brock gets louder, raises his voice and Jose thinks about reminding him of the no yelling rule, but he catches it himself and calms down.

"The more I included you to make you see how much I want you here, the more you pulled back. One minute we're saying goodbye with a kiss at the airport and the next you don't text me or call me anymore. And earlier you said you thought I wanted you to move out. How can you think that? I mean, I get the misunderstanding with what I said to Steve, but you literally woke up in my bed after spending all evening by my side at the party and then the night… we didn't just fuck that night Jo… and still you never even asked. You just assumed that I want you gone. That really fucking hurts." Brock looks directly at him and oozes the pain he just talked about. Jose itches to comfort him and take his hand or hug him, but Brock needs his words and honesty more. He seems to be done, so Jose knows it's his turn.

"When we were together… I love you so much and want to be with you all the time… back then I couldn't because of travel and shit. I missed you and called and texted and then you told me I'm too much. You said I'm clingy and that I feel like a shackle and that I'm controlling you and you feel stifled and some shit about a tracking device. And, like, you ended it and left my ass in the dust so you could be free.You flirting with all them hos right in front of me when I was still your boyfriend, not caring about me… so I thought you were cheating," Jose starts talking slowly and as calmly as he can. It's his chance to finally get it all off his chest.

"During the tour we fucked sometimes and you treated me like shit afterwards, making out with trade, flirting with everyone, playing like it meant nothing. In New York, I thought that's what you wanted again, just another friendly fuck between two exes. I didn't wanna be mean… I just did what you always did… but I did care. I can't help it, cause I'm stupid. Tried to get over your ass, but…" He shrugs helplessly. Brock is quiet, watches him and listens with a sad look on his face.

"You know, I tried to be like that for a while, what I thought you were. Pick up trade at every club, get drunk, fuck them, different guy every night… It didn't feel right. Made me feel cheap, but … the man I wanted didn't want me no more." He takes a sip of coffee to catch his breath and reign in his emotions. "Matt was… he helped me after you left in New York, but I did him wrong. I shouldn't have been with him, cause he was not special enough to me. Not like he should have been." He pauses and clears his voice. "I've wanted to be with you again, so of course I moved in here to be up in all of your shit. I thought I couldbe your friend, or friends with benefits or whatever the fuck you call it. But I can't! I love you, maybe even more than when we were together. But I don't wanna get my ass dumped again, because you think I'm too clingy or too controlling or too this and too that. I gave you space, didn't ask you what you was doing, didn't call you five thousand times a day, didn't sleep in your room when you didn't tell me to. And now you telling me, I did you wrong again? It sounds like I can't do anything right. I don't know what you want from me, Brock." Jose is fighting the tears once again at the end of his speech.

Brock waits until Jose is looking at him again before he speaks."To be fair, I didn't know it myself at first. You were my first boyfriend and when we were together it was amazing. But I think, like, teens make mistakes with their first relationship, but I never had one before. You wanted the romance of a real adult love story and I was trying to figure out how to even be in a relationship after being on my own for so long, you know?It made me question, if we could make it work at all if we tried again. That's until Nina and Steve cornered me at my birthday party and pointed out that, like, all along we were in a relationship, you know, and I wasn't feeling stifled at all. We've been living together for nearly seven months and nothing… no need for freedom. So, I want you to be you, that's all. I want the crazy and the loud and the romantic and everything. Please don't ever try to be someone else, because you think that's what I want. Because I don't. I know you better now, I understand where you're coming from most of the time. And I think you just… you can trust me now, because you know me better, too. You know now I never cheated and don't want to."

"You all talk and no play," Jose nods, he is very sure about that part now.

"At least when it comes to other guys. Or is that something you want? And open relationship? I don't think I could do it, but maybe…" Brock looks like he's going to be sick any second.

"You crazy, boo. I'm Puerto-rican, we don't do shit like that. I'm a one man kind of ho."

"Good," Brock smiles a little. "You wanna be my one man kind of ho again? I'll be yours?"

"You sure?" Jose is still hesitant.

***

Brock hears the timid question and wants to kick himself. He listened intently to what Jose told him and he can see now what incredible damage the words have done, that he said during their last fight as a couple. "I'm so sorry I said all this stuff to you about you being too clingy. I just… I didn't know how to deal with everything and tried to get some space. But the more space I needed, the less you gave me and … I should have explained what I needed instead of attacking you like this."

"I got your number now, toes, but I still keep hearing them words on repeat every time I want to send you a text or ask you where you've been or what you've done. I always think you be running the other way again and leave me." Brock doesn't really know how to reassure him, but he can try.

"When you first moved in and we talked on the phone all the time while one of us was gone? I loved that. Getting ready while seeing you on the screen, telling me about your day, that was perfect. That's what I want again. And we weren't even a couple then. Just twenty messages asking me why I wasn't picking up my phone, when I just forgot it at the hotel - that kind of stuff was what set me off back then. Because it also meant you weren't trusting me."

"I wasn't trusting you because of the flirting. And because you never really wanted me around much. A day or two when I didn't have a gig, but you refused to make plans together. When I wanted to schedule gigs together for the viewing parties and shows, it was always no. I asked you to come along when you didn't had shit to do and you didn't wanna come. I panicked. I didn't wanna lose you and then I did anyway." Jose keeps playing with his fingers, runs his fingertips over Brock's tattoos, but doesn't let go. It's reassuring.

"It scared me how much I was missing you. I wanted to prove to myself that I was still fine on my own. Also, I didn't really know how to figure someone else in. I'd never done it before. It's always been my way or the highway. Talking schedules, changing things and being dependent on someone scared me."

"And now?" Jose asks, still not able to trust Brock's words. He's starting to think it will take a lot more than one talk to repair the damage of the past and both of their individual issues.

"I think we've done pretty well with talking schedules over the last couple of months. We just need to start planing time together and not only apart." This part is actually one of the easy things to fix. Jose's smile looks promising, too. "You agree?"

"You betcha," he finally smiles again and Brock thinks he can see the clouds part. A rainbow seems to appear out of nowhere, when Jose puckers his lips. Brock quickly moves closer, wraps his arm around his shoulders and kisses him softly.

"I love it when you do that," he tells him and stays close.

"What?"

"Puckering your lips to ask for a kiss, without even realising it. It's so damn cute."

"Are you fucking with me now?" Jose asks and looks up at him with confusion written over his face.

"No, papi, I'm completely serious." He kisses him again to make him believe it.

"Ok, then toes. I'll keep doin' it," he shrugs and seems a bit embarrassed.

"You couldn't stop it, if you wanted to," Brock chuckles and kisses his cheek this time.

"What about this?" Jose asks, his eyes stuck on the envelope on the table.

"You still wanna move out?" The smiles are gone.

"I don't wanna move out. Never wanted to since I moved in. But you think us two stupid hos can make it work, if we live together right from the start?"

"I don't know. But I know that the thought of you moving out makes me physically sick," Brock reveals what he feels.

"Right, right," Jose seems to think about it. "So I stay. Do I stay downstairs or you really want me upstairs?"

"You don't truly believe that we would last for more than a day or two with you staying downstairs?" Brock actually laughs. "I'd probably end up sleeping downstairs with you and then one of us will have to go to his room to get dressed. We're no roommates and I'm done pretending we are." Because Jose sleeping anywhere than right next to him, doesn't feel right either. "And as long as we don't change our schedules, we won't see each other too much right away. I'm booked solid until July and so are you."

"You know my schedule now, huh?" Jose smirks.

"I know that Steve calls you when he needs intel these days. He confessed," Brock replies and makes him chuckle.

"We really doing this? Try again?" Jose asks him after a moment of silence when they both let it sink in.

"I really want to," he nods. "I even did some re-decorating while you were gone, because I missed you so much." He points to the picture frames on the wall opposite to where they sit.

"Aww, toes. Who's the romantic now, huh? " Jose gushes and smiles widely before mischief overcomes him. "Me being your only dick trophy on your wall of dick," he starts cackling.

Brock snorts but has to laugh as well. "You're being dick, you got that right."Jose isn't offended and keeps laughing loudly before he turns his head and kisses him again. Brock uses the opportunity to nibble on his plumb lower lip, before gliding his tongue against his. He tastes like the melon he ate earlier and a hint of coffee. Also just like himself and Brock loves it. "You think we all done talking? I'm scared some shit will pop up and you clam up or I wanna punch you again." Jose asks when they break the kiss and has become serious again.

"Maybe we should go to couples therapy. Couldn't hurt," Brock shrugs and realises that Jose is sitting sideways in his lap now. When did that happen?

"You want to talk to a stranger about your feelings? You?"

"I can try. For you. For us." He would do pretty much anything at this point, if it means that things can work out with Jose.

"You really love me." It's a statement spoken with a lot of wonder. A testament to how much Jose doubted the fact before.

"I really love you. A lot."

"I love you too," Jose barely gets the words out before he starts sobbing and seeks refuge in Brock's arms.

***

It truly feels like finally being home, just like they always describe it on these romantic movies, as he lies in Brock's arms and isn't ashamed at all about the tears he cries into his shirt. He can feel some dampness on his neck and hears the sniffles; Brock is crying too.

"We such a couple of homos," Jose jokes when he has himself slightly under control again.

"Very cliché," Brock laughs with him and wipes some tears away.

"So, can I tell Riley, that we staying for good and that he won't lose his other mommy again? No custody and child support case coming?"

"The parents will make it work this time," Brock confirms and pecks Jose's lips a couple of times.

"Henry, 'Pollo, Riley, get your asses in here. Mommy and daddy need to talk to you." Jose yells in his Vanjie voice, leaning against Brock's chest. Brock guffaws but might also be deaf now.

"You're such an idiot."

"Hey, no insults, remember?" Jose points out slyly and with his index finger in Brock's face, reminding him of the rules. Brock shakes his head in fake exasperation, but kisses him again, he simply can't get enough. He laughs even more when Riley and Henry actually show up in front of the couch, following Jose's request and look up at them expectantly.

"We raised them right," Brock points out.

"I raised them right. You spoiled the other cat." Jose giggles and then slips back into Vanjie voice: "Apollo, your ass is grounded for not listening," he yells, laughing because Brock is laughing again.

Brock hugs him tightly and presses his face into the crook of his neck. "I'm so happy right now," he sighs against his skin.

"Me too, toes," Jose whispers back and runs his fingers through Brock's hair. After a while of silent bliss, he has to change his position slightly, because his knee is throbbing again. The long walk earlier not really what the doctor prescribed.

"You ok?" Brock picks up on it.

"My knee. I think it's swollen again from the flight and the walk earlier," he tells him honestly.

"What happened?" Brock asks and gently pushes him off his lap and crouches down in front of him.

"I was drunk of my ass, slipped on my own vomit and fell. Hit my knee on the edge of the hotel shower," he recounts the events that led to his injury.

"Have you seen a doctor?" Brock asks him after he has carefully rolled up the leg of his pants and looks at the swollen black and blue mess that is his knee.

"Yeah, they made me go, to know if I could continue the tour. Nothing's broken, just badly bruised. Still hurts, but isn't real bad" Jose shrugs and strokes his thumb over the worried crease that showed up on Brock's forehead.

"You stay here on the couch, I'll get you some ice to get the swelling down," Brock decides and wants to walk away, but Jose catches his hand and stops him.

"How about I move from the couch to the bed and you distract me from the pain…. we might have to be a bit more creative than usual," he smirks.

"You really wanna have sex, now, after both of us have been crying for over an hour, your knee is swollen and neither of us is… you know," Brock sounds surprised.

"Douched and ready," he spells it out.

"Exactly."

"Bitch, for the last three weeks, I thought you wanted me out of the house and we would never be back together. So you better think again and give me some real romantic R-rated action, before I re-think about moving to your bedroom, and will just sleep downstairs tonight. You got me, toes?" Jose is now off the couch as well and looking up at his boyfriend, his boyfriend!, with raised eyebrows and tries very hard not to laugh.

"Well, if you insist, boo," Brook laughs, lifts him up by the back of his thighs, and a second later is kissing him, then nibbling and sucking on his neck, knowing perfectly where that one spot is that he really likes.

"Now we talking," Jose smiles and tilts his head to the side to give him better access.

"Yeah, but first I want your stuff back in our room, to make it real. Then we can christen it," Brock says, Jose still in his arms.

"You little bitch. You know exactly what you doing to me." He complains loudly.

"Is it working?"

"Get some boxes from the den, because I am not making the trip upstairs more than once, before I want you on that bed. Naked," Jose huffs as Brock puts him down and hurries downstairs to pack his things.

"Slowly! Your knee!" Brock calls after him.

"I don't give a shit about my knee! Hurry! Cause packing shit half hard is torture! I could sue your ass for making me wait! It's against the gay human rights rules thingy! Sexual torture and homophobic offence! Three weeks of pain and misery without your dick and you make me pack instead of just fucking me again. Oooh, the things I do for love! I swear, toes, once I can go back down on my knees, I'll make you pay, bitch! 'Cause I know just how to suck your dick to…"

Brock laughs as he listens to the rant that comes from the guest bedroom with some crashes and sounds of drawers being slammed shut in between. Jose is back in his life and in his house and they have a plan. For they know what they do - well, kind of.

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go....


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, let's wrap this up.

**13\. Epilogue**

"I can't do this anymore," Brock says, knowing it might not be the best idea to have this conversation on facetime when they haven't seen each other in person for four weeks. Yet, he simply has no choice. There's no way he can go on like this any longer.

"What, you give up? It's only been six weeks," Jose replies.

"Jo, I'm really sorry. I tried, ok? I'm just… I'm done. No more!"

"But you promised!" Comes the whiny reminder. He has a point, but Brock just… can't.

"Boo, I swear, if I have to watch one more Nicholas Sparks movie today or in the future, I will jump right out this window. And I'm in New York, so I'm up pretty high." They started watching movies together and talk on the phone or FaceTime at the same time, because Jose demanded some romance while they were apart. Brock agreed, not knowing what an actual torture the movies would be for him, even if Jose loves them. Nearly every movie date ends with them bickering, because Brock either falls asleep or can't help the sarcastic remarks, that Jose takes personally. So, for their date today, he decides to address it from the get go.

"Why are you hating on them movies so much? What have they done to you? You just don't like the romance." Jose pouts.

"They aren't even romantic. One is more depressing than the other. You cry nearly the whole duration of the movie and then, just when it looks like you get your happy ending, everything gets fucked up and you start sobbing again and I have to try and console you over the phone."

"But in the notebook…" Jose starts his defence of his favourite movie, but Brock interrupts him, because he's heard it before.

"She forgets about him and in the end they both die," he sums it up.

"But the letters? What about the romantic letters?"

"I can write you romantic text messages or emails, if you don't make me watch it again," Brock tries to get a deal.

"Fine, they better be sexy, too. But what about 'A walk to remember'? They even sing!"

"And then she gets leukaemia and dies."

"But he was her miracle."

"I'll buy you a telescope and you can call me your miracle, if it helps. But no more, please!"

"I don't want a fucking telescope. How about you fuck me until I see stars when you get back and I agree to no more 'Walk to remember'?" Jose cackles.

"Okay."

"But what about 'Message in a bottle'?"

"He drowns on a fucking boat!"

"What about…?" Brock interrupts him again.

"In 'Nights in Rodanthe' he gets killed in a mudslide. A mudslide! And she never sees him again. In 'The best of me' he gets shot and her son gets his heart, which is way creepy if you ask me. And then there's 'City of Angels' when they can finally be together and then she gets hit by a truck!" Brock rants.

"Babe, I hate to break it to you, but City of Angels is not actually a Nicholas Sparks movie," Jose full out laughs now, absolutely entertained by Brock's rant.

"I don't care. Just… please, I'm begging you, put me out of my misery and don't make me watch these crappy movies anymore."

"But I love our online movie nights when we're apart," now Jose is back to pouting. "Cause I miss you."

"I don't wanna get rid of online movie nights, I just want different movies. And I miss you, too."

"No Alien shit, no race cars, no dragons or dwarfs," Jose lays down the law.

"I saw they put Clueless on Netflix. How about that for today?"

"I know you clueless, toes, don't need no movie for that."

"One more word and we're watching 'the sixth sense' again," Brock threatens, only half joking.

"You crazy! I still can't sleep with no lights on! That shit's scary and you not even here! No way, mama. Only when you here and you can cuddle me."

"So? Clueless?" Brock smirks.

"Fine, just give me a second. I have to feed the cats before they whining all the time during our movie time."

"You got snacks?"

"Mmh, I still got gummi-bears and chocolate I brought from Germany. And you?" Jose asks and Brock has to smile about the random topic of conversation, even though they're on different ends of the country. Just another week, Brock tells himself, then they're finally back in L.A. together.

***

"Who that look on your face, toes? Don't like the choreo?" Jose asks him as he stands before him in the dance studio, sweaty and breathing hard. Brock is sitting on the floor before him, holding out a bottle of water.

"No, choreo is great," Brock shrugs.

"But?"

"No, buts."

"Spit it out, bitch!" Jose prompts and very lightly kicks his foot against Brock's knee.

"You're sloppy," Brock finally says, knowing it won't be taken well.

"I am what? Who's the one always leaving his dirty clothes all over the floor and other shit everywhere? Because let me tell you, it ain't me!" Jose puts his hands on his hips and throws the bottle of water down on the floor.

"You know full well I am talking about the execution of your movements," Brock rolls his eyes, because he has learned by now that Jose likes to play dumb when it means getting him out of something he doesn't like.

"I'm gonna execute your ass, if you don't stop bashing me," Jose huffs and sits down next to Brock on the floor.

Brock waits if there's more bullshit coming his way. "You done?" he asks when Jose remains silent.

"Yes."

"You know you're a great dancer, but you're cutting edges again. When you're alone on stage it's invisible to the untrained eye, but with the professional dancers next to you, it's obvious you don't move your shoulders all the way, your toes are not on point when they need to be, the kicks not as high, legs not all the way straight. And especially the steps you fake… one can see it," he gives his honest opinion on Jose's newest routine. "The energy is good, but, yeah, your execution is still sloppy."

"Fuck," he groans loudly and lets himself fall dramatically backwards on the floor.

"I know you can do it, you just need a couple more hours with the dancers and pay attention to it." Brock tries to be encouraging and rubs's Jose's stomach through his shirt.

"Everything hurts, 'specially my knee. I wanna go home! Fuck this shit! I'm a night club ho! People there don't care for execution."

"We're not doing a club tour," he points out. "It's gonna be a full production with props and lights on a real stage. People will notice."

"Fuck you, toes," the words are harsh, but the tone of voice is whiny.

"Come on, Tyler and the others are still here. Another hour and we'll go home. I'll even stop at Olive garden and pick up the rice balls and pasta you like."

"You bribing me?"

"Yes, I am," he nods and wipes the sweat off Jose's forehead with the towel.

"Good, boy," Jose smirks and sits up. He kisses his man, before he stands up and walks back over to his back-up dancers, telling them what Brock said and asking them to help, so he will rock the first tour he does with his boo.

***

"Brock, it's so good to see you!" Nina greets him when he arrives in the garden at her annual birthday party bash.

"Yeah, it's amazing to see you again." They hug each other, because it's really been too long.

"Where's Vanjie?" Nina asks, looking around.

"Somewhere over there. Pouting." Brock sighs, not really enthusiastic about sharing their drama with the birthday boy.

"You fighting again? On my birthday? Really?"

"We're not fighting. We're having a disagreement…" Brock tries to sugarcoat it.

"Brock!" Nina's look means business. "If you two fuck this up again, I will kill you myself!"

"During therapy we agreed that I would stop taking Xanax on shorter flights and I still took one and now he's mad at me," he confesses.

"You're in therapy? Since when?"

"Since we got back together. Communication isn't really our strong suit, in case you didn't notice."

"And does it help?"

"I think so, yeah," he nods. "We're getting to know each other a lot better and also have a save space to talk about things. And we learn communication techniques and how to avoid triggers. It's also helped quite a lot with my anxiety and depression."

"Then why are you here telling me this and not over there communicating with your significant other?" Nina raises both eyebrows.

"Uh…"

"You have twenty minutes. If you've not made up by then, I'll kick you both out. Now shoo," he orders and with an eye-roll Brock makes his way over to his boyfriend.

"Can I talk to you? Inside?" he asks and touches his elbow gently. Jose doesn't reply, just huffs, but follows him inside anyway. Inside the empty kitchen Jose leans against the counter, crosses his arms and waits. But Brock doesn't quite know how to start. This is one of the first big arguments since they got back together and it leaves him shaken.

"So? You got something to say?" Jose prompts.

"I'm sorry I took the Xanax and went against our agreement," he finally spits out.

"You didn't even try anything else. Just popped the pill like we never agreed on nothing!" Jose fumes.

"I know, I just… after getting back from the airport just last night with the shitty long distance flight we took… then the whole shit with the pool and being stuck in traffic, nearly missing our flight… The whole day has been fucked up and I could feel my anxiety shooting through the roof. I just couldn't take it anymore on the plane, so I took the pill. I'm sorry I did."

"You think I'm mad you took the fucking Xanax? Your idiot ass doesn't understand that I can see you spiralling and panicking and shit. And if you need the pill, you need the pill after the morning from hell. I'm not mad about that, asshole! I'm mad because you never said a word to me! What are we learning all this calming shit and breathing right stuff for, when you don't talk to me?" Jose replies, more hurt than angry.

"I didn't want to add my stress on top of yours. Your morning wasn't any better, you were right there for all of the shit."

"Yeah, and we meant to tackle it all together. That means you talk to me when you can't take it or it gets too much. Has Dr. Laurie taught you nothing?" He asks and smiles a bit.

Brock takes it as a good sign and wraps his arms around Jose's waist."I'm sorry, it won't happen again. I promise I'm gonna say something next time I can feel the anxiety coming."

"Fine, toes, you're forgiven," Jose sighs and puckers his lips. Of course, Brock gives in and kisses him. The soft peck turns into a gentle kiss. Then Jose's hands slip into Brock's back-pockets, squeeze his ass. Brock's hands wander up underneath Jose's shirt. He strokes his fingertips over his skin, feels his ribs and tickles him a bit as he deepens the kiss, enjoys their tongues dancing with each other. When Jose moans into his mouth, he lifts him up, sits him down on the counter and moves his hands to his front, slips into his shorts, massages him through the jock-strap he's wearing. Jose is half-hard already. He first hears his zipper being pulled down, before he feels Jose's hand on him, slipping right into his briefs as he seeks skin.

"Uhm guys, I know I wanted you to make up, but please don't fuck right next to the food," Nina's voice interrupts them, before he starts laughing.

"Fuck," Jose groans and pulls back, adjusts himself in his shorts as Brock pulls his zipper back up.

"No, Jose, thats exactly what you're not supposed to do in my kitchen," Nina keeps laughing.

"What happened?" Monet shows up as well.

"Caught them nearly fucking in my kitchen," Nina lets him know.

"Guys! There's food here," Monet is now cracking up at their expense as well.

"Can you shut the fuck up and give us a second here?" Jose barks, because he's so embarrassed he's bright red and hiding behind Brock's chest.

"You have exactly thirty seconds. If you're not back out by then, I'm coming back with a garden hose!" Nina threatens and leaves with Monet. When Jose finally looks up at Brock and their eyes meet, they both burst out laughing.

"They'll never let us live that down," Brock gasps.

"I don't give a fuck! I can smooch my boo and touch his dick, if I want to. Especially if we justmade up," Jose proclaims and hops down from the counter. His bravery lasts until they step back outside in the garden and the whole party crowd erupts in wolf-whistles and cheers. He turns bright red again and hides his face in Brock's chest. "What a fucking day," he mutters as Brock laughs.

***

"Jose? Jose?" Brock yells through the house, because he has no idea where his boyfriend went. He just quickly jumped into the shower to get ready for the Jose's birthday party later and now he can't find him anywhere. He's checked every room and even the outside. Riley is still sleeping on his blanket so he can't have gone for a walk either.

"What?" He walks in from the garage.

"Where were you?"

"Just picking something up. Why you yelling? Something happened or you just missing the birthday boy?"

"I'm looking for my watch. I can't find it. Do you know where it is?" he asks.

"You lost your watch? The watch I gave you for you last birthday?" Jose asks, arms already crossed in front of his chest. Brock feared that he would get angry, but he really needs to know, if he has seen the watch somewhere, because he's completely out of ideas.

"I didn't lose it, I just can't find it. I put it in my bedside table before I left for Prague last week and now it's gone."

"You sure you put it there. Maybe you took it to Prague with you?"

"I didn't, because last time I was there they stole my phone. I didn't want to risk my watch. And why are we even having this conversation? Have you seen my watch or not?" He's feeling more and more frantic, because the watch means a lot to him, mainly because Jose gave it to him, and now he can't find it anymore.

"You better be happy I took such good care of it," Jose suddenly smirks, takes a box out of his jacket pocket and hands it to him. Brock knows he's been played.

"You're such an asshole! Why did you have to scare the shit out of me like that?" he complains and quickly opens the box, relieved to find his watch in there, unharmed.

"You know I wouldn't fuck with you, if I didn't love you," Jose laughs. "And I still needed to do something, it was the perfect opportunity."

"What did you do now?" Brock asks suspiciously, because one never knows with his jokester of a boyfriend.

"Turn it over," Jose instructs.

'_I'm your first, I'm your last and you're my everything. Love you toes <3 Jose'_ he reads and starts laughing and crying at the same time.

"Had to change it a bit and shorten it, or else Barry White might sue my ass for copyright shit," Jose shrugs, but his eyes are soft, as is his smile.

"Come here you," Brock requests, still trying hard not to full on cry and holds his arms open. "Thank you, baby," he whispers once Jose has stepped into them and hugs him just as tightly.

"When we were talking during therapy about me not engraving the watch, because I thought you'd hate it, I could see it upset you."

"You're amazing and I love you," Brock sniffs and pressed his lips to the warm skin of Jose's neck.

"Bitch, don't get me all in my feels before my birthday party at the beach club. I'm not going there with puffy, red eyes and snot all over my face. You better get a grip," Jose huffs playfully and swats Brock's ass through his jeans.

"Kiss?"

"That I can do. Bring'em on, mama," he laughs and starts the fifth make-out session of the day. And it surely isn't the last.

*******

While Brock meets Jose's family regularly as they often hang out by their pool, Jose hasn't met Brock's parents since they got back together. Their stop in Toronto for their Christmas tour is a good opportunity, because they are all coming to see the show and then they are going to spend Christmas together. Brock can't wait to finally have a white Christmas with Jose and his family. Jose is a bit intimidated, however.

"Holy fuck, toes, you really look like your dad," he exclaims when he greets the parents. The second the words are out, his eyes widen, because this is surely not what he had planned to say to them. Brock just bursts out laughing, no help at all. "Sorry, mama, you better get the soap ready, cause it sure looks like I'm messing up already." Jose tries to save the situation himself and refers to what Brock told him about his mother's comment about him. "You know, my mama raised me right, but she even more Vanjie than when Vanjie's full on cray cray." Now Brock's mother is laughing as well, but he's met her before.

"It's good to see you again, Jose," she greets him and gives him a hug, while Brock's father still stares at him. "See you haven't changed."

"I have no idea what he just said. Care to translate?" he says to Brock, who starts laughing again.

"Nice to finally meet you, Sir" Jose tries to talk as 'normal white people' as possible and holds out his hand.

"Nice to meet you, too. I've heard a lot about you." They shake hands.

"You been talking shit behind my back, boo?" he turns to Brock with a playful look on his face and raised eyebrows

"Only nice things, papi, only nice things," he assures him and pecks his lips, finding it cute that Jose just can't be anyone but himself even with his strict christian parents right there.

"What else is there to say about me? I'm a nice ho," he grins proudly.

"I concur."

"Plain or lavender?" Brock's mother interrupts them.

"Huh?" they both don't know what she's talking about.

"The soap. Because judging by last two minutes, I'll need to order it in bulk," she jokes. Brock and his father both burst out laughing, while Jose just smirks, a bit embarrassed.

"Biiiitch," escapes him and it makes Brock nearly fall over with laughter.

***

"You got your passport, papi?"

"Yes, it's in your backpack with yours. You got the list for Nina with all emergency numbers?"

"Yup, next to the feeding instructions and house manuals on the fridge. I also put your mom's phone number there. Think that's ok?"

"My mom's going to be over here anyway the second we leave. She wanna catch some rays by the pool," Jose points out what Brock already knows.

"Packed your new AirPods?"

"Fuck, no. Thanks for reminding me." Jose pecks Brock's lips and hurries to the office to get his headphones.

"Watching you two, is like watching a couple that's been married for thirty years," Nina speaks up from his place on the couch, where he sees them running back and forth, making sure they didn't forget anything.

"Just sexier," Brock smirks.

"You better believe it. The second I'll have you to myself on that beach, your dick is mine!" Joseyells from the office.

"Isn't it always, anyway?" Nina yells back.

"True dat. Miss Nina's a smart cookie!" Jose cackles and comes back out.

"Can we stop talking about our dicks and get moving. I don't wanna miss the flight to the first vacation I've had in forever!"

"We not talking about our dicks, but yours. And we not missing any flight, so calm down. We have three hours just to get to the airport."

"Still trying to fly without pills?" Nina asks.

"Haven't had any for the last two long distance flights." Brock says proudly.

"Don't tell me you two joined the mile-high club to take care of your anxiety," Nina laughs.

"Bitch, we senator club members, but we not fucking on no plane! That's disgusting." jose scrunches up his face.

"Two words: My kitchen."

"We didn't fuck in your kitchen, we're not fucking on any plane and we really need to leave now," Brock is still nervous.

"Calm down, boo. I've got ya," Jose promises and pulls Brock down for a quick kiss, before he hands him his jacket and backpack.

"Thank you, Andrew for watching the cats and Riley," Brock says as Jose grabs his things.

"Sure, can't let you two miss out on finally going to Aruba and Paris together."

"I get to kiss the birthday boy on the Eiffel Tower, how romantic is that?" Jose is giddy with glee about the idea.

"As longs as no one is afraid of heights," Nina laughs and hugs them both good-bye.

"Bye, Andrew," Brock waves as he enters the Uber that is waiting for them.

"Bye Miss Nina. Imma send you lots of postcards," Jose promises and follows his man in the car.

"So, beside your plan for the beach and the Eiffel Tower, what else have you come up with for our trip?" Brock asks him as they drive through L.A., hands linked between them.

"There's this restaurant the fan-hos told me about online, that has all the…" Jose chatters away excitedly and Brock also has some ideas about what to do and where to go. At the end of the day it doesn't really matter to either of them though. All that matters is that they are together.

And that they know what they do now. For real, bitches.

**The end**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. 
> 
> Special thanks to all those who left/leave reviews. You always make my day.   
It's been a lot of fun. :)


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